


Aubergine Heart

by jeyhawk



Category: One Direction (Band), Radio 1 RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, First Time, Fondness, Friends to Lovers, Love, M/M, Pining, Rings, Romantic Gestures, Social Media, Texting, emojis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-11
Updated: 2014-09-11
Packaged: 2018-02-17 00:55:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,477
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2291030
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeyhawk/pseuds/jeyhawk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><b>AU</b>. <i>The thing about Harry is that he just appears one day. Technically, he's Henry's new assistant, but he seems more like everyone's new best friend because suddenly he's <b>everywhere</b>. He's a troll-eyed nineteen year old in skinny jeans and bandanas who likes sticky sweet drinks, talks like honey drips, and shows up at every function/party/dinner/fucking DATE Nick goes to for months until he's <b>Nick's</b> new best friend too and that's just unacceptable.</i></p><p>Or Nick and Harry are idiots in love. *heart-eye* *heart-eye* *heart-eye*</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aubergine Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [LittleMousling](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleMousling/gifts).



> Many thanks to @eloiserummaging and @goingmissing for their stellar beta and brit-picking job -- any remaining mistakes are my own. With a special mention to eloiserummaging for coming up with the title. :D
> 
> Thanks also to my readers Rachel, Ves and Aly who has been with me since the beginning, with a second special mention to Rachel for being amazing and endlessly encouraging. This fic would not exist without you. <333
> 
> Also, thanks to fiddleyoumust for arranging this with an added apology for being a day late. Sorry. *hangs head* 
> 
> Thanks to my amazing twitter TL for their help along the way. No question goes unanswered for long. Thanks guys! <3
> 
> Lastly, thanks to LittleMousling for the prompts that gave me a kick in the behind to finish this. I tried to start something entirely new but your prompts had me coming back to this half-finished manuscript lounging in my WIP folder because while it's none of them exactly, it's a little bit of all of them. I hope you enjoy it! 
> 
> \--
> 
>  **FIC NOTE:** Text within *asterisks* is meant to depict an emoji. The actual title of this fic is: *aubergine* *heart*

The thing about Harry is that he just appears one day. Technically, he's Henry's new assistant, but he seems more like everyone's new best friend because suddenly he's _everywhere_. He's a troll-eyed nineteen year old in skinny jeans and bandanas who likes sticky sweet drinks, talks like honey drips, and shows up at every function/party/dinner/fucking DATE Nick goes to for months until he's _Nick's_ new best friend too and that's just unacceptable.

"You're not allowed to be mad at me for showing up when you asked me to come." Harry smacks his gum at Nick and smiles revoltingly. "Can I borrow this scarf?"

"No, you can't," Nick makes a face but Harry's already tying Nick's flimsy £150 piece of fabric around his hair and tucking the ends in all proper like. It looks good on him. Nick hates everything.

"We going then?" Harry asks, looking like a menace in his black jeans and Chelsea boots with his coat unbuttoned and Nick's scarf around his hair.

"Button your coat," Nick mutters sourly, grabbing a knit scarf from the coat rack and winding it around his neck. "It's cold outside."

Harry's laugh stalks Nick up the stairs from his flat and then it's right in his ear when Harry catches up and unceremoniously winds his arm through Nick's. He's buttoned his coat, Nick notices, but it still gapes open at his throat as if Harry can't bear to be fully contained.

"You'll catch your death," Nick warns, giving his bare throat a pointed look.

"Nah." Harry bumps their hips together. "You'll give me your scarf before it comes to that."

The worst thing is, Nick totally will.

\--

The dinner function they attend is exactly as dreadfully boring as Nick suspected, which is why he asked Harry to come in the first place, but Alexa and Pixie are there (to tease him endlessly, it seems) and Harry stays glued to his side and somehow it ends up being a pretty good night.

"It's my youthful verve," Harry claims, grinning shamelessly at Nick over his third pink cocktail. "It's giving you a whole new appreciation for life."

"I'm twenty-eight," Nick hisses because sometimes Harry makes him feel ancient.

"Don't look a day over twenty-seven," Harry assures him solemnly and fishes the cherry out of his glass, probably for round three of advanced cherry-stem cunnilingus. Nick hates his life. "It's not like anyone would ever mistake you for my father," Harry continues slyly because he's a horrible child and Nick dislikes him so much.

Carefully ignoring the way Pixie and Alexa are just about pissing themselves with laughter, Nick says, "What was that Frankie Cocozza? I didn't quite hear you," and is treated to Harry's full belly laugh which reveals the shredded remains of the cherry stuck to Harry's teeth and the cherry-stem tied into a neat knot resting on Harry's tongue. Nick cannot stress this enough: he _hates_ his life. 

\--

They move onto a bar after, this trendy little place that Pixie favours and whose assortment of sugary cocktails has Harry bouncing on his heels with glee.

"I want one of each," he exclaims, eyeing the menu hungrily.

"You can have two," Nick decides because he's a responsible adult with an early morning job and low resistance to drunk troll-eyed teenagers.

"You gonna get them for me, huh? Be a proper gentleman and buy me drinks?" Harry plucks at the lapels on Nick's coat and leans his elbows against the bar. He didn't bother to button his own coat for the cab ride and it falls open to frame his narrow hips and mile-long legs, leaving Nick struggling not to stare.

"I don't know, young Harold. Are you saying you could afford these overpriced beverages on your own?" He pokes Harry in the hip and raises his eyebrows.

"Maybe if I lived off Pot Noodles." Harry pushes off the bar disc and ducks in under Nick's arm, pressing their sides together. "But you won't make me."

Well, isn't that the truth.

\--

Nick is a crap adult and buys Harry enough drinks to make him loose of limb and grabby of hand. It would be hilarious if it was happening to anyone else, but Harry is a menace and Nick is so bad at resisting him.

"You're so fucking sexy." Harry's breath shivers across Nick's ear. "You shouldn't be allowed to be this hot." He's got a hand under Nick's shirt, thumbing at Nick's hip just above the waistband of his jeans and it's enough to make Nick's stomach tighten with helpless want.

"Don't be silly, darling," Nick mutters, pulling Harry's hand out from under his shirt. "And mind your hands."

"I'm not silly," Harry protests, turning his hand over to twine his fingers with Nick's. "You're beautiful."

Nick actually flushes at that and pointedly ignores him. He doesn't think he's been called beautiful in his life. Good looking, sure, hot and sexy too, but beautiful… that's ridiculous. Harry's beautiful with his dark absinthe eyes and pink lips, hair curling at the nape of his neck and cheeks drink-flushed; he could be a model if he didn't have his mind set on being behind the scenes. He could have anyone.

"I'll make you believe me." Harry squeezes Nick's fingers and grins obnoxiously; he sounds very certain. Nick wasn't that certain about anything when he was nineteen.

"It's like watching a train wreck in slow motion," Alexa says fondly, nudging Nick's ankle under the table and giving him a wink.

"When it's finally over the ground will be strewn with rose petals and soft violins will play in the distance," Pixie adds.

"I hate you both."

Harry nudges Nick's chin with his nose, gives his neck a kiss and says: "They're right, though." 

"And I hate you too."

Harry laughs and tucks his face into Nick's neck. "No, you don't."

Nick's squeezes his fingers and despairingly thinks, _It's probably the opposite actually, you terrible child._

\--

At the end of the night Nick dodges Harry's goodnight kiss before wrapping his own knit scarf twice around Harry's neck, kissing his forehead and sending him off with Alexa.

Harry starts texting him right away.

_You're no fun._

_This scarf smells like you. I'm never giving it back._

_Alexa says I have to be patient. Fuck patient. I just want you so much nick._

_I can't stop thinking about your hands._

_Home. Alone. In case you were worried._

It takes almost half an hour for the next text to arrive.

_Please say you were worried._

Nick's heart stumbles and he stares at the message for a very long time before he responds, _A little bit. I'm wise to your minxy ways._

Harry sends him a string of hearts and then nothing. Nick stares up at the ceiling and completely fails at falling asleep.

\--

Two weeks later they have lunch at Harry's favourite sushi place. Nick's not entirely sure how it happens, but one moment he's making tentative plans with Fifi and Finchy, and the next he's sliding into a booth across from Harry.

"Hi," Harry says, grinning brightly. "You're looking very dapper today."

Nick does look dapper. It was entirely unintentional, he just grabbed whatever in an attempt to not wake his friend Emily, who was still sound asleep when he left for work, but the result is quite pleasing, though he is a bit overdressed for noon on a Tuesday.

"This old thing," he says demurely, gesturing at his blazer. "I've had it for years."

"Yeah, it does seem to be straining a bit," Harry responds, grinning brightly around his straw, and seriously, how is Nick supposed to deal with someone who still drinks Coke through a straw?

Nick kicks him under the table and grabs the menu to have something to look at that isn't Harry's pink mouth or chiselled jaw line. Nick would have killed to look like Harry at nineteen, all lean lines and bulging muscle, Nick was a very pudgy and awkward teenager that grew into a pudgy and awkward man. He didn't really come into himself until he was well into his twenties and he still sees that awkward kid in the mirror sometimes, hiding behind a self-deprecating smile.

"Hey." Harry nudges Nick's knee under the table, making him look up. "You really do look great."

Harry looks incredibly earnest. It's one of Nick's favourite things about him, the way he means everything he says.

"You too," Nick admits. He does as well: the neckline of Harry's black shirt droops enough to show a glimpse of the swallows tattooed on his chest, and his hair is clean for once, swept back from his face in a gentle wave.

"Had a thing earlier." Harry ducks his chin, looking demure. "Henry told me to look smart."

Nick needs to have words with Henry because Harry in all black ensembles with his tats on display is a serious weakness, one that is not helped in the slightest by Harry's clean hair and the lingering tan from his recent work trip to LA.

"He's a menace, that Henry," Nick mutters. "Should be ashamed of himself."

Harry looks up, shattering the illusion of modesty with his smirk. "I knew you'd like it."

Nick studies him for a moment. "Did you ask me to lunch just to woo me with your all black ensemble?"

"Uh huh." Harry's smirk turns into a proper grin. "Is it working?"

"Not in the slightest," Nick lies. "So, what are you having?"

Harry's laugh says he's not buying it all, but he does open up his menu and excitedly starts listing dishes, so Nick thinks he's off the hook for now.

\--

They go their separate ways after lunch, Harry is expected back at the office and Nick has a thing at Elle, but not before they make plans to meet at a pub later. It's a bad idea of course, because Nick has a terrible track record when it comes to Harry and pubs, but this time half of Radio 1 will be joining them; surely it'll be fine.

It's not _fine_ and for once Nick can't even blame Harry. (Well, he can, but only because Harry looks so fucking good in his all black ensemble.)

"Look at this face," Nick says with the kind of drunken sincerity he only ever manages when he accidentally skipped dinner in favour of fizzy drinks with the Elle staff. "Isn't this the most average face you've ever seen?"

"I think it's a pretty handsome face," Chloe says carefully, as if she's afraid the wrong answer will send Nick off on a tangent.

Harry giggles, letting Nick turn his head this way and that with a firm grip on his chin.

"No, it's average. _Average._ That's why it's attractive, you see."

"Okay." Chloe looks like she'd rather be elsewhere. _Anywhere_ actually.

"Except the eyes," Nick admits. "There's nothing average about these eyes." He narrowly avoids poking Harry in the eyeball. Harry doesn't even flinch, the trusting little troll.

"Very good eyes," Chloe agrees weakly. "Very green."

"Yesss." Now that Nick's other hand is also on Harry's face he can't really help stroking it a bit, trailing his thumb along one of Harry's flushed cheekbones. "Terrible face this," he adds to no one in particular. "Really can't deal with it at all."

He covers Harry's offending face with his hand, spreading his fingers across Harry's forehead and Harry laughs against his palm.

"You're so drunk, babe," he says, lips tickling Nick's skin. "We better get you something to eat or you'll be in shambles tomorrow." He curls a hand around Nick's wrist and pulls his hand away from his face. "Kebabs?"

Nick wants to say no because going anywhere alone with Harry is probably a terrible idea right now but instead he says, "Yeah, okay," and pokes at one of Harry's dimples.

"You're so cute together," Chloe says, reaching out to squeeze both their shoulders. "Invite me to the wedding, yeah?"

"Will do," Harry says easily, tugging on Nick's wrist until he stops gaping in outrage and starts moving. "Bye, Chloe."

"Wedding, huh?" Nick croaks, glaring in turns at Chloe's retreating back and Harry's face.

"One can always hope," Harry mutters, squeezing Nick's wrist before letting go. "Now come on, let's grab something to eat."

\--

They get greasy kebabs from a corner shop not far from Nick's flat and eat them sitting side by side on a bench outside because Nick thinks the shop smells too much like sheep It's cold outside, cold enough that Nick doesn't even think of protesting when Harry sits down so close to him that they end up pressed together from knee to shoulder and then tries for closer.

"I won't be able to eat with an overgrown teenager on my lap," Nick points out when Harry's thigh ends up resting across his and the rest of Harry looks like it might follow. He's not sure he would mind a lapful of Harry in favour of eating, which is, he supposes, exactly why he needs to eat.

"I'm not overgrown," Harry protests, but he does stop trying to sneak fully onto Nick's lap.

"98% limbs. It's been scientifically proven," Nick says airily, making Harry hide a laugh against his shoulder.

"You're terrible," Harry complains, shoving him lightly in the side. There is a pause then he adds, "But I suppose I do have one limb that is overly large," sounding so pleased with himself that Nick can't help but laugh.

"Now who's terrible?" he asks when he's caught his breath. "That was literally the worst joke ever."

"I never joke about dick," Harry deadpans and of course that sets Nick off again. Harry pats his back and Nick can basically feel him radiating smug pride because he seems to think that making Nick laugh is an accomplishment. It's one of his finer qualities actually.

"Ugh, shut up," Nick waves the hand not currently holding a cooling kebab at Harry's face. "I'm trying to eat here."

"You started it," Harry points out, but he does lift his food to his mouth like a good boy and after a moment Nick even follows his example.

\--

The kebab goes a long way to clear Nick's fuzzy head but he still lets Harry snuggle into his side for the walk up the hill to his flat. Harry is unusually quiet, walking so close their hips keep bumping together and throwing them off their gait.

"You okay?" Nick asks.

"Yeah." Harry squirms in even closer, nearly making Nick misstep into the road. "Now, shush. I'm enjoying the moment."

Nick glances down to where Harry's head is more or less on his shoulder to find Harry's eyes closed and his mouth curved into a soft smile. It makes Nick's stomach swoop alarmingly and he jerks his head up, staring straight ahead. He tells himself it's because one of them better watch where they're going.

\--

In the morning Nick is awakened, not by his god-awful blaring alarm but by a hand threading through his hair, the smell of fresh coffee, and a roughly rumbled, "Good morning, Grim."

He blinks his eyes open to find Harry leaning over the bed, sleep tousled and bright eyed, looking far too awake for 5.30am. 

"Breakfast's ready," Harry says, brushing his lips against Nick's forehead before holding out his glasses. "I put some clothes for you on the chair."

Nick is, of course, perfectly capable of dressing himself but somehow he ends up wearing the outfit Harry picked out for him anyway because, well, Harry picked it out for him.

"I look like you," Nick remarks, shuffling into the kitchen. "People are going to start calling me Grandpa Styles."

Harry half turns from where he's stood at the stove. "You look great," he says. "And shut up, you're not old."

It's easy to feel old though between the teenage pin-up standing half naked at Nick's stove and the nasty hangover clawing at the back of his skull.

"I am dreadfully old," he exclaims, sinking down into one of the kitchen chairs and staring morosely at Harry's dimpled back. "Kind of like this t-shirt."

Harry must have found it at the very bottom of his closet, a relic from a Nick's youth that is washed so thin it's almost transparent.

"Shh," Harry says, coming over from the hob to put a plate of bacon, eggs and beans down before Nick. "That shirt is like the hottest piece of clothing you own."

Nick blinks at him, because really? It's a wash-worn white t-shirt that probably started its life on a Tesco shelf.

"It's perfect," Harry says dreamily, reaching out to touch Nick's chest where the sagging collar reveals a tuft of chest hair. "I just want to…" He bites down on his lower lip and pulls his hand back, balling it into a fist.

"You just want to what?" Nick asks.

Harry lifts his gaze to meet Nick's eyes and the corner of his mouth curls impishly. "Rub off on it."

"Harry Styles," Nick exclaims, scandalised.

"You asked," Harry widens his eyes with fake innocence but his cheeks are bright pink and there's an almost nervous twist to his mouth.

"Menace," Nick mutters, trying to ignore the white-hot curl of desire at the pit of his stomach. "Stop being terrible and put some clothes on. It's not decent, the way you prance around with your tits hanging out."

"Psssh," Harry says. "You love my tits."

Nick does, but that's entirely beside the point.

"Clothes or bust," Nick says, pointing at the door.

It's not actually better, Nick thinks, when Harry returns dressed in skinny jeans and one of Nick's t-shirts, but he pretends that it is for the sake of his sanity.

\--

Nick goes for dinner and drinks with Harry and his obnoxious flatmates on a Tuesday. They're nice lads really, but kind of loud, and kind of all over each other, and kind of prone toward reminding Nick he's nearly a decade older than Harry. Also, they favour sports bars. Nick is not a big fan of sports bars.

"You're actually watching this," Nick says with dawning horror, tracking Harry's eyes to where they are glued to one of the big screens above the bar.

"Uh huh," Harry agrees without looking away. He's snuck a hand in under Nick's shirt but he won't look at him. Okay.

On the screen men in red knee socks are running around an emerald field with men in blue knee socks, chasing a black and white leather ball. Nick can't decipher from the scoreboard which team is playing which, only that it's not Man U.

The lads in red socks score, probably, and a cheer rises around the bar and more specifically around Nick's table.

"Did you see that?" Harry asks, beaming at Nick. "That was brilliant."

 _You're brilliant,_ Nick doesn't say, but he nods and smiles and pretends he knows what Harry is talking about. He's pretty sure Louis is onto him, rolling his eyes at him from the other side of the table, but Nick just shrugs helplessly at him like, _what can you do? Have you seen this child?_ It must have been the right thing to do because Louis quirks a smile at him and offers him some peanuts. Nick is _great_ at meeting the friends. (Not that he's officially Meeting the Friends or anything. It's more like he's spending friend time with Harry in a new setting where there are also some of Harry's other friends. Yes.)

Nick's actually a bit overwhelmed that he did not know this about Harry, though. Like, all this time Harry's been into sports and _he had no idea_. Does that make him a dick? Should he have offered Harry to watch the game (a game?) at his place on… whatever days they usually have games? He should ask his dad, his dad would know, or Andy. Hey, maybe Harry could fulfil Nick's watch-the-game-with-your-brother-like-a-proper-lad duties in the future. Nick could go too but do what he's doing now which is drink beer, eat peanuts and watch Harry watch the game. (It's possible Nick might have had a few beers too many again because Harry's face is endlessly fascinating.)

"You can watch footie at my place if you want," Nick says before he can stop himself. It's totally worth it too for Harry's gigantic beaming smile. 

\--

Eventually the game ends and they decide to soak up the alcohol with some chips, buying several portions from the shop on the corner and carrying the cartons with them back to the boys' flat. It's kind of nice and a lot like uni, sitting on mismatched sofas around a three-legged coffee table, eating chips, and arguing about what 90s boyband would win in a fight (Boyzone obviously).

There's nothing uni-like about the way Harry is draped along Nick's side, though, with his head on Nick's shoulder and a hand tucked into the back of Nick's jeans, because boys like Harry didn't really give Nick the time of day back at uni, but it's a nice modern addition to the creeping nostalgia.

Nick had a great time at uni; he did radio, studied less than he should, drank more than was healthy, and banged plenty of fit boys. Then he made some new friends, moved to London, got a bit lucky, worked really hard, and somehow ended up on a sofa in east London with a darling boy arguing about boybands and reminiscing about his past. He really needs to stop drinking on weeknights.

Eventually the party, if you can call it that, starts breaking up. Zayn falls asleep on the lone (and dubiously stained) armchair squished in between two of the sofas and Niall excuses himself for bed. Liam keeps nodding off, head dropping forward comically, and Nick and Louis have reached the stage of discussion where they'll either call it a draw or go for blood.

"I think that's enough." Harry interrupts just as Nick is about to launch into another diatribe defending his chosen champions. Louis looks _painfully_ smug about it, as if Harry interrupting is the same as Harry taking sides.

"But I was just…" Harry claps a hand over Nick's mouth.

"Take That would take them all anyway," he says. "And the two of you are not allowed to become mortal enemies over a hypothetical boyband fight."

"But I've never had a mortal enemy," Louis says, all smiles and fake innocence.

"And you're not allowed to make one out of Nick," Harry says firmly.

"Hmmph," Nick adds, mostly because he hates it when he doesn't get a word in edgewise.

Louis laughs and then he's nudging Liam awake and dragging him to his feet. "Night then," he says, staggering a little when Liam sags into his side. "It was a pleasure as always, Grimmy."

Nick pulls Harry hand away from his mouth. "Same," he says. "Night."

Then it's just Nick and Harry (and Zayn, who's still fast asleep in the armchair) and somehow that makes it a hundred times more obvious just how close Harry's sitting.

"I should go," Nick says, even though taking a cab ride across town has never seemed less appealing.

"You could stay," Harry suggests. He twists his wrist out of Nick's grip and entwines their fingers. "I want you to stay."

"You always want that," Nick says weakly, staring at their joined hands.

"Yeah," Harry admits roughly. "I wonder why." He sounds tired and defeated and raspier than a few beers and some footie-related shouting warrants and Nick doesn't want him to sound like that ever.

He squeezes Harry's fingers lightly. "Finchy will tease me endlessly about showing up in yesterday's clothes," he points out.

"I don't care," Harry breathes and when Nick glances at him he's doing that he thing he does when he tries to temper his grin with his teeth but doesn't succeed at all. It makes him look a bit deranged and also really pretty.

"Of course you don't," Nick mutters and Harry grins even wider.

"Wow," Zayn says suddenly, making both of them jump. "You're actually sickening." He pushes himself out of the armchair and stretches languidly. "Dibs on being best man though," he adds, ruffling Harry's hair as he shuffles past them towards the bathroom. "You know Louis would be a tragedy and Liam follows his lead." 

"Niall could be great though," Harry points out, dimpling impishly.

" _And_ he could play guitar at the reception," Nick adds.

Zayn pauses with his hand on the bathroom door handle and half turns to give Nick a look. "And for that I'll never share Harry's tasteful nudes." He opens the door and half steps inside. "Or the rude ones."

Nick's stomach does a complicated thing that feels a bit like he just had his entrails swapped for a bucket of desire. "There are nudes?" He never wants to see them, yet he wants them to be burned onto his retinas forever. "Rude ones?"

"Of course not," Harry says quickly but the crimson tint of his blush says his pants are on fire. Nick's life is _terrible_.

\--

Harry's room is tiny but his bed is large enough to easily fit two people with space to spare (not that it is in any way comfortable; no wonder Harry has a bad back).

"Your bed is actually terrible." Nick rolls over to peer at Harry, who's surprisingly enough keeping to his side of the bed. "No wonder you spend all your time at mine."

Harry's mouth curls and he gives Nick a look like he's daft. "I spend all my time at yours because you're there," he says. "Your comfy sofa is just a bonus."

Nick's stomach swoops – it does that a lot around Harry. "Most people don't just come out and say these things," he points out weakly.

Harry rolls his eyes and reaches across the empty space between them to touch Nick's hand. "Most people don't have to deal with you." That is true and it kind of makes Nick want to give something back. Harry is always so _nice_ to him and he has this horrible sinking feeling that he doesn't give nearly as much as he receives.

He swallows and tries to think of something to say that won't come out trite or dumb or like far too much. "I… uh…" (love you love you love you love you) "Enjoy spending time with you too." Because that doesn't sound dumb at all. Despairingly he flops over on his back, leaving one hand stretched out across the sheets towards Harry, he's the _actual_ worst at this. _Fuck it._ "Want to cuddle?"

"Yeah." Harry's barely exhaled his assent before he's settled against Nick's side with head on Nick's shoulder and their legs tangled under the blankets. One of his hands works its way in under Nick's shirt, curling around his ribs and he breathes out a long, contented breath. It almost makes Nick laugh, how quickly he moves, but mostly it just makes him feel terribly _unbearably_ fond, so he settles for wrapping one hand around Harry's back and the other around the bend of his elbow, holding on.

"Night, Harry," he murmurs, clutching him a little tighter. 

Harry's only response is a drawn-out rumbling hum that is far too adorable for words and Nick falls asleep still smiling.

\--

He's in shambles in the morning, hungover and gritty-eyed from sleeping in his contacts, but he presses a kiss into Harry's curls and one onto his mouth, and slips out of bed still smiling.

Finchy does give him hell for showing up in yesterday's clothes and a borrowed t-shirt, but that's neither here nor there, and somehow Nick doesn't stop smiling for the rest of the show.

\--

"I think I might have a problem," Nick confesses to Aimee that night. They're having non-alcoholic (thank god) drinks on Nick's living room floor with the telly on for background noise (as you do on a Thursday night).

"Is it about six feet tall, curly of hair, and has been texting you non-stop all evening?"

Nick guilty looks up from his phone. "Maybe?"

Aimee laughs and pokes at his thigh with her perfectly pedicured toes. "And how is young Harry a problem, pray tell?"

"He just is," Nick whines despondently, poking dramatically at his phone. Harry just sent him a picture of his face. It's terrible. He looks _so_ good.

"Let me see that," Aimee says, heartlessly tearing Nick's phone out of his hands. She scrolls for a moment before looking up at him. "You know you're an idiot, right? Nick... look at this."

She turns his phone over to show the string of messages with nothing but hearts and random animal facts Harry sent him on the hour, every hour Tuesday last week when Nick was having a day.

"I know," Nick mutters. "I didn't know that about goldfinches either."

Aimee kicks him. Hard.

"Hey." He rubs at his thigh and simultaneously wishes he'd never brought the subject up and that he wasn't so wretchedly sober. Drunk and not having this conversation sounds like a great life plan.

"God," Aimee mutters, still scrolling. "This boy is so much more than you deserve."

"Hey," Nick says again but she's probably right. He's a sad excuse for a human being and Harry is lovely.

"Shh, I don't mean it like that," Aimee says, pawing distractedly at Nick's face in a way that almost costs him an eyeball. Her nails are neon green and lethal. "It just makes me sad that the most hopelessly unromantic man I've ever met somehow attracted this."

She turns the phone over again to show him a picture of Harry holding up a neatly written sign that says, _You look lovely today_ , and doing a thumbs up. It's from two weeks ago, maybe, when Nick was also having a day.

Nick has a lot of days. Harry always helps.

"I could send him flowers?" Nick suggest vaguely, pulling his knees up and resting his chin against them. "Or buy him a nice watch. He likes watches."

"Or you could pull your head out of your ass and take the boy on a proper date."

"I'm terrible at dates," Nick points out. "And we go out all the time anyway. He wouldn't get that it was a date and at the end of the night he'd take off with someone else. I've seen that movie." He glances at his drink. His terribly un-alcoholic drink. He should do a few quick shots of tequila, he's properly romantic then – or, well, lewd, which is close enough. Few quick shots and he can write an ode to Harry's knees. He really does have lovely knees, Harry. Spindly.

"Oh, darling." Aimee scoots in close to give Nick a hug. It's a bit awkward with the way he's sitting but she manages somehow, pressing a sticky kiss to his stubbled cheek. "You don't have to be so scared of this," she murmurs, resting her forehead against his temple. Her hair cascades over her shoulder in a bright orange tumble and Nick just really likes her so much.

"I really like you," he says, because she gets it. She's his best friend and she gets it.

"I was nineteen the first time I fell properly in love. I told you that, yeah?"

Nick's stomach swoops and his hands feel a bit clammy. "Yeah."

"God, he was such an asshole and cried for weeks and weeks but you know, I picked myself up and did it all over again and again and the thing is... it never stops being terrifying but when you find the right person it's so, so worth it." She breathes against his cheek for a moment, before adding, "It's really so worth it, Grim. Don't throw it away because you're scared."

Nick swallows thickly. "He's so young, though," he whispers.

"Lots of people meet young. First doesn't have to mean first of many. And it's... you're on the same page in the book of life, aren't you? Who cares about your publication dates?"

Nick laughs and if it sounds a bit watery Aimee doesn't mention it. She gives his cheek another kiss and then straightens up and hands his phone over.

"Now text the boy something nice and get me a proper fucking drink. This Shirley Temple shit can wait until we're properly old or someone sends us to rehab." 

Nick sends Harry three hearts and _Wombats poo in cubes_ , a fact that he's been hoarding for a special occasion. Then he takes a selfie with the vodka bottle he gets out of the cupboard and captions it with: _Best laid plans..._ , sending it to Harry instead of Instagram because maybe the nation doesn't need to know about his boozy Thursday. (He'll probably tell them tomorrow anyway.)

_So there'll be an essay about my nose on my desk by morning then, _Harry replies. Well, after the first text that is just a huge block of heart-eye emojis. Nick is pretending that one didn't happen to him.__

___Knees actually_ , he sends and then, _Sleep well.__ _

___You too,_ and seven hearts._ _

__"Vodka," Aimee yells._ _

__Nick stuffs his phone into his pocket and grins dumbly at the cupboard for a moment, just to get it out of his system._ _

__"Coming, love," he shouts back, grabbing a bottle of pink mixer as well because he likes to think ahead._ _

__\--_ _

__In the morning he wakes to Aimee's snores, a nasty headache and a picture of Harry's knees in ripped jeans captioned with: _These, these, these are my knees._ He touches the screen with the tip of a finger and whispers, "I'm really terribly in love with you," out loud._ _

__Strangely, the world doesn't end, Aimee doesn't wake up to mock him, and Harry's knees don't reply. He still feels so much lighter as he rolls out of bed and starts the painstaking process of dressing himself, as if maybe he can do this after all._ _

__He replies to Harry's text over a nutritious breakfast of painkillers and flat Diet Coke while he waits to be picked up._ _

_Will you and your wonderful knees be in my life later?_

__He hopes the answer is yes. He really wants the answer to be yes._ _

__\--_ _

__Harry doesn't text back until Nick's already on air._ _

_Can't. *sad-face* *crying* *broken heart* I'm on my way to the train station. Going to mum's over the weekend, remember?_

__Well, Nick does remember, now that Harry has reminded him. He remembers and it makes him sad._ _

__"Now that is a tragic face," Matt says suddenly. He's using his radio voice and Nick realises he missed his cue while he was dejectedly staring at his phone. "Isn't that a tragic face, Fifi?"_ _

__"Very," Fiona agrees, the traitor. "It is a very tragic face."_ _

__"It's not..." Nick pushes his phone to the side and adjusts his mic. "I'm not making a tragic face. That is a lie."_ _

__"So you didn't just receive a text that made you stare off into space like a tragic heroine? Because I'm pretty sure that just happened."_ _

__Matt is such a terrible person. Nick has no idea why he's friends with him._ _

__"Well, okay, I did just receive some terribly tragic news," Nick agrees, changing tactics. "Thanks for bringing that up on air, Finchy."_ _

__Matt's brow furrows with concern. Nick is such a good actor sometimes._ _

__"I just learned that my good friend Harry... You remember Harry right?"_ _

__Matt and Fiona both sighs gustily into their mics and Matt's brow smoothes out with an eye roll._ _

__"Yes, Nick. We remember Harry," Fiona says. "I'm pretty sure everyone remembers Harry. It's quite impossible to forget about Harry the way you go on about him."_ _

__"I don't go on about him," Nick scoffs._ _

__"Yes, you do," Matt and Fiona shout in tandem._ _

Nick's phone buzzes with about seven incoming texts that all say _YES YOU DO_ from various friends who are obviously up early and a string of heart emojis from Harry. Text machine says the nation agrees. Well then. 

" _Anyway_ , I just learned that my good friend Harry, who I _occasionally_ mention on the radio, is going up North to visit his mum over the weekend." 

__"And?" Matt prompts._ _

__"And what?" Nick makes an expressive gesture. "He's going away over the weekend. His knees won't be in my life. I'm bereft. See this? This is my bereft of Harry Styles' knees face."_ _

__Nick's aware that maybe he's losing it a bit. A lot. Whatever. No Harry for several more days. What's the point of anything?_ _

__"And it's such a tragic face," Matt agrees, nodding sagely around his grin._ _

Nick's phone buzzes with another text, this one from Anne, Harry's mother. _Oh god._

_It's like that is it? *crying with laughter face* *crying with laughter face* I promise I'll return him in prime condition... or you could come? You're always welcome. *yellow heart*_

Nick makes a distressed noise, unfortunately into his microphone. Matt and Fiona laugh at him. _Loudly._

__"I give up," he groans, folding forward until his forehead hits the desk. "If you need me, I'll be on the floor."_ _

__He shouts the last bit but the nation probably can't hear him. It's just as well. He already lost enough cool points this morning. Fiona is still laughing at him, proper clutching her sides and wheezing for breath laughing at him, but Matt gets it together enough to announce the next song before he joins her._ _

__"Strong link, that," Nick remarks, mostly to the desk. He fumbles for his phone, holding up blindly. "Matt look at this. Look at what my life has become."_ _

__Matt doesn't disappoint, swiping the phone from his fingers with a haste that implies he was already on his way over. Then he laughs some more but that's okay, because he also pulls Nick's headphones off for him and pats his back, right between his shoulder blades._ _

__"So, are you going?" he asks._ _

__"Of course not," Nick scoffs. "That would be nuts."_ _

__Thing is, it would be kind of romantic too and Nick was going to work on that._ _

__\--_ _

__He can't go on Friday night because he's filming for Sweat the Small Stuff, and also having drinks with Daisy, and also going would be nuts. So he films for Sweat the Small Stuff, has drinks with Daisy, texts Harry a couple of sonnets about his ankles and doesn't think about getting on a train to Holmes fucking Chapel because that would be nuts._ _

But then Harry texts, _OMG my old band is playing at a club in Manchester tomorrow and the new lead singer is sick so they asked me. AAAAAAH._

_You're gonna kill it like a proper popstar_ , Nick texts back and he really is too. Nick's seen some YouTube videos of old performances and Harry would have made a great popstar if he hadn't had his mind set on fashion. (He also saw Harry and Niall perform at an open mic night once and he still has wet nightmares about that. Harry can _sing_.) 

_I'm so nervous though. :(((( What if I totally ruin it for them?_

_Neveeeerrrrrrr. You're brilliant. *nail-polish hand* *nail-polish hand* *nail-polish hand* *nail-polish hand* *prawn* *crown*_

__"Ahaha, your face," Daisy says, kicking him under the table. "What's Harry up to?"_ _

__Nick really needs new friends. "Nothing," he says tartly. "It's not always about Harry."_ _

_I'm gonna throw up like a million times between now and then. *SOS* *SOS* *SOS*_

"So it has nothing to do with this then?" she asks, turning her phone over to show Harry's twitter, where he's retweeted the gig announcement followed by: _Standing in for Rich tomorrow. So bloody nervous. AAAAAAAAAAAAAH._

__The gigs at ten, Nick notices, and at a club he used to hang at all the time when he lived in Manchester. In fact --_ _

_Just saw your tweet. My first ever club hook up was at Se7en. Fond memories. Don't soil them with vom._

"Had my first ever club hook up at Se7en," Nick says brightly. "Excellent choice of venue." 

_Oh god, I hate you._

_As I recall it I commemorated the occasion with a sharpie doodle on the wall. It might still be there. Look for a very smug drawing of a penis._

_You're the absolute worst. I hate you._

__"You just told him that, didn't you?" Daisy laughs. "Grimmy, you're the worst."_ _

__"Why does everyone keep saying that?" Nick asks, but secretly he's smug. Usually he's the one who can't deal with Harry even a little bit, the role reversal is nice._ _

_You don't hate me. You think I'm awesome._

_Maybe... If I add my own smug penis drawing I'll send you a picture. ;)_

__"What?" Nick shouts shrilly, sitting up straighter. He gets a few odd looks but he doesn't even care. Harry can't...He can't...Can he?_ _

__"What what?" Daisy asks, frowning at him._ _

__"I need another drink," Nick says, still staring at his phone. "Bring me the whole bottle."_ _

__He might have to take up grand romantic gestures as a lifestyle after all._ _

__\--_ _

__He violently regrets this decision on Saturday morning but he still forces down some breakfast, dresses himself, throws together an overnight bag, and calls for a cab._ _

__"Where are you going?" Daisy asks, blinking blearily at him from the couch. He has no memory of why she stayed over, as she literally lives two doors down from him, but sometimes it's best to not question these things. She's got a key anyway; she can let herself out._ _

__"Manchester...Remember?"_ _

__"Oh, right, your grand romantic gesture." She yawns and stretches languidly. "What're you going to say then?"_ _

__"Say?" Nick asks weakly, clutching at the straps of his bag. The taxi won't be here for another twenty minutes, but he's seriously considering waiting on the front steps. He's a big fan of avoiding real talk._ _

__"Yeah, like..." She makes a gesture. "Your declaration of love?"_ _

__Nick considers this. "Uhm... hiya?"_ _

__She looks at him for a moment, probably gauging the truth of his statement, then she laughs. "Yeah, you go with that, love," she says fondly. "It's Harry. He'll be happy just to have you there."_ _

__This is obviously why Daisy is secretly Nick's favourite. She knows his limits._ _

__"Might hold his hand too," Nick says proudly._ _

__Her lips twitch. "And pretend you don't notice when he slips a hand under your shirt?"_ _

__"Naturally." Nick feels a bit warm just thinking about it. Hips pressed together, ankles tangled, elbows brushing, Harry's hand at the small of his back. Their romance is practically Victorian._ _

__His phone buzzes in his pocket and he wriggles it out to find a text from Harry._ _

_Band practice now. I'm so nervous. *sad face* *another type of sad face* *a third type of sad face* *a fourth type of sad face*_ There are a lot of different sad face emojis apparently and Nick realises he doesn't know what half of them are supposed to mean. 

He texts back with three red hearts and, _The big sperm whale's heart is about as big as a Fiesta._ He should probably have saved the square poo for this he realises so he adds, _Send me a selfie. I think I kind of miss your average face._

_Penguins only mate once a year,_ Harry replies and then a picture of his face that makes Nick's heart skip a beat and then, _Return the favour idiot._

__Daisy laughs at the way he drops his bag and shrugs out of his jacket before he runs into the kitchen to take the actual picture, trying his best to look like he just rolled out of bed and certainly isn't going anywhere in the next few minutes. He sends it off and then he has to scramble to grab everything again when he gets a text that his cab is ready. Whatever. Nick's totally smooth._ _

__\--_ _

__Se7en has not changed much in the five odd years since Nick's last visit. The walls are a shade darker and it looks like the furniture's had a facelift but the basic layout is still the same with two main rooms and a sprawling dance floor half-a-level down, and the crowd is still mostly made up of club kids and uni students. Nick's chosen attire of ripped skinny jeans, Converse hi-tops, a vintage band shirt, and his favourite leather jacket makes him fit right in._ _

__It's just after nine and Nick's plan is to get a drink and then hide in the shadows until it's time for Harry's set, but that plan is spoiled pretty spectacularly when Harry literally runs into him at the bar._ _

__"Shit I'm sorry," Harry says, grabbing at Nick's arms to steady him. "I didn't --" Harry cuts himself off, eyes going comically wide._ _

__"See me there?" Nick suggests brightly. "Very easy to miss, me."_ _

__Harry blinks at him slowly, as if he can't quite believe his eyes. "What are you doing here?" he asks, digging his fingers into Nick's arm. "Nick, what are you...you were in London."_ _

__"Well," Nick says, leaning in closer as if it's a secret. "There's this guy I know who has a gig here tonight and I think he's pretty great so I thought I'd check it out. Show my support, you know."_ _

__"You didn't come just for me," Harry says fondly, finally letting go of Nick's arm as if he's regained his footing. "I bet you had a photoshoot or summat."_ _

__"Well, I did take a selfie with my mum and a piece of cake, does that count?"_ _

__Harry rolls his eyes. "A radio thing then or something to do with fashion."_ _

__"Something to do with fashion?" Nick asks, smiling a little. It's kind of exhilarating to watch Harry grasp for straws._ _

__"I don't know just...something. Something important, probably. I've heard you're a very important person."_ _

__Nick's stomach flutters happily. "If you look up VIP in the dictionary there's a picture of my face."_ _

__"And it's such a great picture too." Harry's full on grinning now, eyes sparkling. "But seriously, Grim. What the fuck are you doing here?"_ _

Nick shrugs, fake casual. "I woke up this morning and found myself missing your knees _terribly_." 

__"No, you didn't," Harry says, pushing playfully at his chest. "Shut uuup."_ _

__In Nick's daydreams of how this moment would go, Harry did not put up this much resistance._ _

__"Come on, Haz," he says, capturing Harry's wrists when it seems like he's going for another playful push. "Do I have to spell it out?"_ _

__"Spell what out?" Harry asks, and the thing is, he doesn't even sound playful. He sounds generally bewildered, as if it doesn't matter that all the evidence points in one direction because he can't bring himself to believe it._ _

__"Ugh," Nick says, releasing Harry's wrist. He is so not cut out for this grand romance life. "Give us a hug."_ _

__Harry happily burrows into Nick's arms, tucking his face into Nick's neck and linking his hands at the small of his back. Nick squeezes him hard and presses a kiss into Harry's hair. He thinks about all the times Harry has put himself out there, baring his heart without the slightest hesitation and he just really wants to give something back._ _

"Are you cuddling _Nick Grimshaw_? Seriously, Hazza, you went to get a bottle of water twenty minutes ago. I thought you ran away." 

__Nick turns his head to find a guy he vaguely recognises from Harry's Instagram frowning at them. He doesn't look like he's about to make the sign of the cross and start screaming but Nick loosens his embrace anyway, letting Harry pull away. Not that Harry goes very far, he keeps one arm around Nick's back and hooks his thumb into Nick's waistband._ _

__"Nick, Matt. Matt, Nick," Harry says tilting his head back and forth between them._ _

__"Pleasure to meet you," Nick says, holding his hand out. Matt grabs it and gives it a firm shake, eyes seemingly stuck on where Harry's arm disappears behind Nick's back._ _

"Same," Matt agrees vaguely, letting his hand drop back to his side and flexing his fingers. He's a nice enough looking bloke with dirt blond hair, blue eyes, and a well-kept beard. Nick knows he and Harry go way back, but he also looks like a total lad, and the way he's staring has Nick subconsciously bracing himself for a fight, but when he speaks again it's to say, "Haz, are you _dating_ Nick Grimshaw? You could have told me." 

__"I'm right here," Nick points out, but no one pays him any mind._ _

"We're not _dating_ ," Harry scoffs. 

"Are you sure? Because you look pretty cosy and he's...you know and you're...you know and you were _cuddling_." 

Matt's vague hand gestures are kind of hilarious but, "Yeah, I'm _still here._ " 

__"Of course I'm sure," Harry says dismissively, continuing this disturbing trend of completely ignoring Nick. "Nick had a thing and decided to stop by."_ _

And that's just _it_. "Oh my god, Harry Styles," Nick explodes. "I didn't have a bloody thing. I came to see you." 

"There you... I...What?" Harry's fingers flex against the small of Nick's back and Nick can't believe they have to go over this _again_. 

__Matt mostly looks very amused. "I'll let you two talk it out," he says. "I'll grab that water for you, Haz. It was nice to meet you, Nick. Fifteen minutes until show time, okay?"_ _

__"Okay," Nick says because Harry doesn't look like he's going to say anything any time soon. He's staring at Nick again, eyes wide and soft. Nick life would be so much easier, he thinks, if Harry didn't have such a lovely face. "Let's go back to hugging." Nick tugs Harry back into his arms. "It was much better when we were hugging."_ _

__Harry buries his face back into Nick's throat and exhales shakily. "Did you really come for me?"_ _

__"Yeah," Nick says, clutching him a little tighter. "I really came for you."_ _

__"Will you stay until after the show?"_ _

__"Of course."_ _

__"And we can talk?"_ _

__Nick was kind of hoping that maybe they'd kiss instead, but okay, he still owes Harry some sort of declaration of love. "Yeah, we can talk."_ _

__"Okay." Harry squeezes him tighter for a moment, pressing his lips against Nick's neck, then he drops his arms and takes a step back. He looks amazing, sparkle-eyed and smiling, with his hair swept back and dimples digging deep into his cheeks. "I should get down to the others," he says. "Last minute changes and stuff."_ _

__"Okay." Nick smiles at him, helpless not to. "I'm gonna grab a drink but then I'll be down."_ _

__"Okay." Harry takes half a step back before he suddenly darts forward and presses their mouths together in a quick, close-mouthed kiss. He pulls away before Nick can make a grab for him and have a proper go at it, grinning from ear to ear as he turns on his heel and takes off for the stairs to the lower level._ _

__Nick stares at his perfect pert little arse, deliciously framed by skinny black jeans, until he disappears from view at which point he finally makes it to the bar and orders a sugary cocktail to commemorate the occasion. It's disgusting, actually, but he figures Harry will get a kick out of tasting it on his tongue later._ _

__\--_ _

In the next hour and a half Nick drinks four disgusting sugary cocktails, has four mental breakdowns over Harry's wriggling hips, posts one 20 second video of Harry singing to Instagram and captions it with: _@harrystyles is killing it in Manchester tonight *heart* *heart* *heart* *SOS* *SOS* *SOS*_ (thus giving his whole hand away), answers approximately two-hundred texts from friends who've seen the video and want to mock him endlessly, and falls helplessly head over heels in love with Harry all over again. 

__They end the set with a sultry number that has Harry purring into the mic and making sweet, sweet love to the mic stand, and Nick has never, ever in his life been so hard in public without a hand on his dick. It's embarrassing how hard he is; if he wasn't hiding alone in a dark corner he would be dying of mortification. Harry must never find out._ _

_I've never in my life been this hard in public without a hand on my dick. I hate you. *aubergine* *aubergine*_

__So maybe he shouldn't have had that fourth drink. Maybe._ _

__\--_ _

__Then the set is truly over and Harry bounces off the stage, devastating in his all-black ensemble with flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes, and Nick was going to wait for Harry to come to him but fuck that plan. Really._ _

__"Hiii," Harry says when Nick makes it up to his group of friends, dimpling terribly and making grabby hands for Nick's drink. "Gimme."_ _

__"You just want me for my alcohol," Nick says sadly, handing the drink over. It's bright green and awful, Nick already tried one._ _

__"Oooh, this is great." Harry smacks his lips. "Thanks, babe."_ _

__Nick pointedly doesn't acknowledge the way his stomach flutters at Harry calling him “babe.” Instead he lifts his arm a fraction, gratified by the way Harry immediately ducks in under it, pressing their sides together and slipping his free hand around Nick's waist._ _

__"This is Nick," Harry says, leaning his head back against Nick's shoulder. "Nick, this is everyone."_ _

__"Hi, everyone," Nick says and then he awkwardly shakes about twenty hands left-handed, trying to commit their names to memory._ _

__There's Matt, who he already met, and Jamie, who he's met in London before, and Alex, who he once spent an entire weekend insanely jealous of based on the number of pictured featured on Harry's Instagram. There are Anne, and Mary, and Claire, who Nick has talked to on twitter before, Lola, who has fire-cracker red hair, Eric, Dan, Michael and Ashley, who could as well be quadruplets, and unfortunately a couple of people whose names are gone before they're even finished introducing themselves. (Nick blames Harry and the way his fingers absently toy with the hem of Nick's shirt while he slurps (slurps!) at his disgusting drink. How is he supposed to concentrate with that kind of distraction?)_ _

"So, are you going to stick around for a while?" Matt asks, looking at Nick rather than Harry, and Nick can hear the unspoken _please, don't steal him right away, we never get to see him_ , as loudly as if it was spoken out loud. He can relate. 

__"Absolutely," Nick says with an enthusiasm he doesn't really feel at the prospect of hanging out with a bunch of people barely into their twenties. "It'll be great."_ _

__\--_ _

It _is_ pretty great. They all help clearing the stage and lugging the equipment out to Jamie's uncle's van and Nick entertains a brief but fulfilling fantasy about being the lead singer in a gritty garage band and Harry being his biggest (only) fan. (He's really only in it for the right to wear floral print shirts open over his bony chest a la Matt Healy and Harry's the only person he knows who'd be into that.) 

__"You'd like it if I took to wearing a Hawaiian shirt open over my chest, skinny jeans and not much else, right?" he asks, as they're on their way back into the club proper after delivering the last tangle of cables to the van._ _

__"Might be a little bit into that, yeah," Harry agrees, bumping their shoulders together as he slips his arm back around Nick's waist. "Is this something that might actually happen in my future or are you just taunting me with the possibility?"_ _

__Nick gives him a sideways glance. "To be honest you might change your mind about how much you want it after seeing me naked, but I suppose it could happen. I mean, I have been known to embarrass myself in public."_ _

__"If that happens I'm pretty sure I'll be the one to embarrass myself in public," Harry says, squeezing Nick's waist. "I kind of have a semi just thinking about it."_ _

__Nick swallows and absolutely definitely doesn't look down to gauge the truth of that statement. "You're ridiculous," he mutters._ _

__"Ridiculously into to you, yeah," Harry agrees simply, bumping their hips together and slipping his hand in under Nick's shirt. "I'm really ridiculously into you."_ _

__"Yeah...uh...me too," Nick says quickly, before he can lose his nerve. "With the ridiculous and you. It's...uhm...it's been that way for a while."_ _

__It's not quite a heartfelt confession of love but it's one up from holding Harry's hand. Daisy would be proud of him. (Aimee would roll her eyes.)_ _

__"Yeah?" Harry sounds a bit breathless and when Nick glances at him he has his lower lip sucked in between his teeth, trying but failing to temper his smile._ _

"Yeah," Nick confirms, squeezing his shoulders. " _Really_ ridiculously into you." 

__"Fuck," Harry mutters, scrubbing a hand over his face and looking up at Nick, dark eyed and flushed. "I really wish we weren't in a club with all my friends right now."_ _

__"Yeah," Nick agrees lowly, reaching out to thumb lightly at the corner of his mouth. "Me too."_ _

But they _are_ in a club with all of Harry's old friends and Harry really doesn't get to see them a lot, so they end up staying until the club closes, sitting hip to hip with their thighs crossed, sharing an assortment of terrible neon cocktails between them. 

__"Here, try this," Harry says, holding out a tall glass for Nick to take. The drink is neon pink and there's a jelly sweet slowly dissolving at the bottom of it._ _

__"Looks nasty," Nick mutters, but he takes the glass anyway, sipping delicately from the rim. It tastes overwhelmingly like raspberries don't. "Mmm, yeah, tastes nasty too." He hands the glass back with a nose wrinkle that makes Harry laugh. "I think I'll try this one instead."_ _

__He grabs a lime green cocktail at random. It'll probably be as disgusting as the others but he has high hopes that this one will be the one that finally kills his taste buds._ _

"Mmm, limey," he exclaims after taking a mouthful. "Very tasty." It's not, but at least it doesn't contain _actual candy_. He'd like to have some teeth left in the morning. 

__"Liar," Harry says grinning fondly. "You think it's vile."_ _

__"You're vile," Nick retorts. It's not much of a retort. He does it only for the way it makes Harry laugh and wriggle even closer into his side, dragging his hand over Nick's ribs under his shirt._ _

__"The vilest," Harry agrees, leaning in even closer. "I'm so, so vile."_ _

__"I should do something about that," Nick murmurs, eyes stuck on Harry's sticky-red mouth._ _

__"Put me in my place proper." Harry's fingers flex against Nick's side and he drags his tongue over his lips, slow and measured, eyes locked on Nick's._ _

__"God," Nick breathes, leaning in closer, and then,_ _

__"Ugh, you're both the vilest," Lola exclaims, pushing lightly at Nick's shoulder. "Stooop it."_ _

__Harry jerks back, a flush creeping across his cheeks even as he laughs. "Sorry guys," he says. He doesn't look sorry at all._ _

__"This is why my friends are better than you lot," Nick says, gesturing at the table at large. "My friends would have been holding their breaths, phones at the ready, if they'd been witnessing this." He considers it. "Actually, you guys are pretty great. As you were."_ _

__"God, they will mock us forever," Harry says, as if this has just dawned on him._ _

__"And ever," Nick agrees solemnly._ _

__\--_ _

Once the club closes for the night they say goodbye to everyone and move on to this little hole in the wall pizza place that has been around since Nick first started going out, sitting next to each other at one of the rickety tables and eating _so much pizza_. So, _so_ much pizza. 

__"I'm dying," Nick moans, pushing his plate to the other side of the tiny table and nearly knocking Harry's drink to the floor in the process. "I'll have to swear off carbs until Christmas to make up for this."_ _

__"Nooo," Harry complains, attempting to inch closer but there really isn't any closer to inch, he's practically on Nick's lap already. "I'm going to feed you all the carbs," he adds seriously, resting his forehead against Nick's temple. "Carbs and love."_ _

__Nick laughs, tugging lightly at the curls at the nape of Harry's neck. "You're so drunk, love."_ _

__"The drunkest," Harry agrees easily, nuzzling against Nick's cheek. "You should probably take me home and put me to bed."_ _

__Home. To Nick's parents. And Nick's old single bed. _Fuck_. Nick has a hard time resisting drunk handsy Harry when they're fully clothed in public; this is going to be torture._ _

__"Fair warning," Nick mutters. "I might bundle you up in the covers so that you can't touch me, you troll."_ _

__As if to prove his point, Harry slips his free hand in under Nick's shirt. The other has basically been resting on the small of Nick's back since they sat down. "Nah," he says. "You like it when I touch you."_ _

__Nick really does, but that's entirely beside the point. "Harold," he sighs, plucking Harry's hand from under his shirt and holding onto it. "Text your mum to say you're not coming home tonight, will you? You might also want to mention I'm heavily into abstinence right now."_ _

__Harry giggles, dimples cutting deep into his cheeks, and yeah, Nick might have to sleep on the floor to pull this off. But he's not...their first time isn't going to be drunk off their arses in his childhood bed. He won't let it be._ _

__Harry straightens up and pulls his hands back to do as he's told and Nick immediately misses the warm weight of him along his side and the sticky heat of his palm against the small of his back To cover it up he pulls his own phone out and calls for a cab, because it's nearly 3am and high time to go home. When he disconnects he half turns to find Harry staring at him, cheeks flushed and eyes dark._ _

__"What?" he asks suspiciously, glancing down at himself to see if his shirt's become transparent all of a sudden._ _

__Harry turns his phone over, showing Nick the screen and rasps, "Same." It's the text Nick sent hours ago about never having been so hard in public before. _Fuck_._ _

__"Abstinence," Nick reminds him weakly. "We're practicing abstinence."_ _

__Harry does not look like he cares._ _

__"And look our cab is here. Let's sit on opposite sides and not touch. Come on, love."_ _

__Nick jumps up and doesn't stop to see that Harry is following him because of course Harry is following him, probably adjusting himself, making sure his shirt is covering his crotch, maybe walking a bit stiffly with how hard he is in his painted on jeans..._ _

__"Oh god," Nick groans, throwing himself into the back of the taxi and pressing up against the far wall while giving the address for his parents' house._ _

__Harry predictably follows on his heels and even more predictably doesn't stay on his side._ _

__"You're a menace," Nick complains, even as he lifts his arm to let Harry slide in under it._ _

__"You started it."_ _

__"I was momentarily overwhelmed. You were up there having sex with a mic-stand, couldn't help myself."_ _

__Harry makes a tiny little noise, dropping one hand to Nick's thigh and squirming in his seat. "You're not helping me right now," he says and his voice is all gravel, going straight to Nick's dick. "Do you remember that party we went to just after Christmas? When I stripped and you pouted at me for giving you a semi?"_ _

__"Yeah." Ridiculous night, that, but also one of Nick's favourite memories._ _

__"I got off so hard on that," Harry confesses. "Like...I had to sneak into the toilets to have a wank." He picks at the inseam of Nick's jeans before he quietly adds, "I guess I just get off really hard at the thought of you wanting me."_ _

__"That is so much more than a thought, love," Nick says helplessly, putting his hand over Harry's on his thigh. "God, that is so much more than a thought."_ _

__Harry moves his hand to curl their fingers together and puts his head down against Nick's shoulder. "This feels like a dream," he murmurs, rubbing his cheek against Nick's jacket. "Like I'll wake up tomorrow and it won't have happened."_ _

__"It's real," Nick assures him, squeezing his fingers. "It's really real." It's possible, he thinks, that he might have kept Harry waiting a little too long.  
\--_ _

__They make a right mess of sneaking in. They're barely through the door before Harry trips over his own feet and nearly sends both of them sprawling, leading to a giggly stampede that has them banging into the wall while furiously hushing each other._ _

__"I'm so drunk," Harry moans, struggling to straighten up and get his boots off at the same time. It's not going very well. "Nick, I'm _so_ drunk."_ _

__Nick is maybe not quite as drunk but he feels a bit like he's floating inside his own head._ _

__"Uhhh." Harry slides down the wall and ends up sitting on the floor, but at least that means he manages to get his shoes off._ _

__"I'm such a crap adult," Nick whispers, watching Harry flex his feet as he drunkenly toes his own boots off. He's not sure how they went from the quite emotional moment in the cab to this, but he thinks that Harry's sneaky hipflask might have had something to do with it._ _

__Harry rolls his head back against the wall and grins up at him. "You're an amazing adult."_ _

__Nick rolls his eyes. "If I ever end up in court I'm calling you as a character witness."_ _

__"Nah."_ _

__"You saying you wouldn't do it?" Nick shrugs out of his jacket and completely misses the coat hook._ _

__"I'm saying you can't call your spouse as a character witness." He frowns. "I think."_ _

__"You drunk little minx," Nick mutters, ignoring the way his heart trips as he grabs Harry's hand and hauls him to his feet._ _

__"I'm serious." Harry faceplants into Nick's chest and winds his arms around his waist. "You'll never be rid of me now."_ _

__"I don't want to be rid of you, love." Nick threads one hand into Harry's hair and puts the other on his back, holding on._ _

__"Better put a ring on it then," Harry mumbles, nosing at Nick's chest._ _

Nick looks down on his hand on Harry's back and, well, he _is_ wearing a lot of rings. He rubs his thumb over the one on his ring finger, a simple black stone ring he's had for years, and after a moment of consideration he reaches down and slips it off. 

__He fumbles behind him and finds Harry's left hand, pulling it from his back. Harry lifts his head to stare at him with wide-eyed bewilderment, as he takes Harry's hand between both of his._ _

"It's not a proposal," he says, ignoring the way his hands shake as he slips the ring onto Harry's ring finger. It catches for a moment on the knuckle but once it's in place, it fits him perfectly. "Just, you know, a ring." He shrugs a bit because he doesn't know. He has no idea what he's doing, but it's vitally important that Harry keeps on looking at him the exact way he's looking at him right now for the rest of his life. He's not entirely sure what the look means but he wants it _forever_. 

__Harry flexes his fingers, shifting his gaze from Nick's face to his own hand. "You gave me a ring." He sounds as if he doesn't quite believe it despite the evidence._ _

__"Uh, yeah."_ _

__"Okay." Harry fists his hand and chews at his lower lip, staring at Nick again with that look on his face again._ _

__Nick stares back, not exactly sure what his own face is projecting, only that it's probably ridiculous, for all of ten seconds before he opens his arms and says, "Cuddle?"_ _

__Harry takes him up on it of course, burrowing into Nick's arms again and squeezing him hard around the waist. "Can we go to bed now?" he asks, voice muffled against Nick's shirt. "Just to sleep," he adds, probably sensing the protest building in Nick's chest. "I just want to sleep."_ _

__"Yeah, okay," Nick murmurs, dropping a kiss onto the top of his head. "Let's do that."_ _

__\--_ _

__Nick wakes up with Harry sprawled all over him, which is, to be honest, not very different to how he fell asleep. It's kind of nice but also suffocating and very, very warm._ _

__"Budge over, love," Nick murmurs, pushing him lightly. "I need a wee." He also needs a painkiller, about five gallons of water and possibly a new stomach lining._ _

__Harry makes a snuffly noise at the back of his throat but he does let Nick crawl out from underneath him without too much clinging._ _

__"I'll just be downstairs," Nick says, crouching awkwardly on the cold floor to push Harry's hair back from his face. "Need to warn my mum I've taken up with a teenage delinquent."_ _

__Harry hums vaguely and his eyelashes flutter. Even in sleep he looks lovely, mouth lax and pink. Nick leans in and kisses his cheek and doesn't really want to leave at all despite the increasingly desperate messages sent by his bladder. He runs his hand through Harry's hair again and kisses his temple before he pulls back._ _

__"Okay," he says, psyching himself up. "Let's do this."_ _

__\--_ _

__

__It's almost eleven already when Nick walks into the kitchen, fully dressed and somewhat refreshed, and his mum is at the kitchen table with a crossword puzzle, pretending that she hasn't just been waiting for him to show up. He's wise to her ways._ _

__"Morning, love," she says, as he heads straight for the kettle. "Did you have a good night?"_ _

__"Yeah," he mumbles, cheeks heating even though he's probably never been so chaste while drunk in his life._ _

__"Mmmhmm." Nick's mum does sly with the best of them. "And would you and your...guest...like some breakfast?"_ _

__Nick fumbles with the jar of instant coffee, keeping his back carefully turned. "I can fix it, mum," he mutters. "And uhm...it's Harry. The guest, I mean."_ _

__"Oh." There is a moment of silence and Nick clutches at the jar as if his life depends on it. God, Harry's _nineteen_ , what on earth is he thinking. "That's lovely, darling." Nick nearly startles out of his skin when she touches his shoulder; he didn't even hear her moving. "He's a lovely boy."_ _

__Nick turns around and lets himself be pulled into a hug, clinging like he's five again and his mum can fix anything. "I know I'm too old for him," he says, pressing his face into her shoulder. "But I really, really like him, mum."_ _

__"Shhh, now," she says, cupping the back of his skull and letting him cling for a moment. "Age is just a number and you always seem so happy when you're together."_ _

__Nick squeezes her tighter before he straightens up and runs a hand through his hair. He didn't realise until just now how important it was for him to get his mother's approval. "What do you think dad will say?"_ _

__She rolls her eyes. "He'll ask what teams he supports and that'll be the end of it. I hope he's not a Man City fan."_ _

__Nick shakes his head and smiles, feeling a hundred times lighter._ _

__"Well, that'll be fine then," she says, brushing some invisible lint off his shoulder._ _

__"Thanks, mum," Nick mutters, still feeling a bit emotional and overwhelmed._ _

__"Anytime, love." She straightens his shirt and pats his cheek. "We're going to the big shop, your dad and I. Do you need anything?"_ _

__"Nah, I'm good."_ _

__"And you don't want me to fix breakfast before we leave."_ _

__"I think I can manage. I have made breakfast before."_ _

__"Alright, then, love." She looks at him for a moment longer, eyes creased with her smile. "Give my love to Harry if he leaves before we come back."_ _

__"I will," Nick promises._ _

__She pats his arm again before she leaves, still with a beaming smile on her face, and it's almost weird, the way she seems to be genuinely happy for him. Not that his mother isn't usually one of his staunchest supporters; it's just that falling in love with a teenager isn't exactly the same thing as landing his dream job, yet he's pretty sure that the last time he saw that particular smile was when he told her about The Breakfast Show._ _

__She might be onto something though, if he can manage to hold on to Harry (oh god), it might just be the most important achievement of his life._ _

__\--_ _

__After his parents leave Nick takes his coffee upstairs to where Harry's still sprawled across the bed fast asleep. Nick doesn't have the heart to wake him, so he sinks down into old desk chair and kicks his feet up against the edge of the bed, curling his toes in under the pillows. He's not sure why they decided to sleep with their heads at the foot of the bed last night, but he's sure they thought they had a good reason at the time._ _

__It's almost twenty minutes before Harry starts to stir and Nick spends his time drinking coffee and scrolling through Instagram. Not a lot seems to have happened overnight, Alexa's been gorgeous all over NY and his video of Harry from last night has over 40,000 likes and nearly two hundred comments. He only reads the first fifty or so but it seems to be the usual mixture of good, bad and rude with a lot of added gushing about Harry's face. He can relate, even the blurry still is enough to make his heart beat a little faster and he has real Harry right in front of him._ _

He takes a moment to stare at the real Harry, tracing the gentle slope of his back and the way his hair curls against the back of his neck until it makes him feel creepy and he turns his attention to twitter instead. He's just composed a tweet entirely made up of emojis when Harry starts to stir and he hits tweet before slipping his phone into his pocket. (It's a very inspired tweets it goes: *heart-eyes* *microphone* *dancing devil ladies* *explosion* *lightning* *drink* *drink* *cocktail* *blue swirl* *heart* *thumbs up* *heart-eye* *heart-eye* *heart-eye* *SOS*) 

__Watching Harry slowly wake up is a delight. His hands twitch against the sheets and he smacks his lips adorably before he rolls over on his back and opens his eyes. He blinks a couple of times, lifting a hand to rub at his face, and smacks his lips again, probably regretting a few of the drink choices he made last night. Lord knows Nick's mouth tasted like a jellybean had been rotting in it this morning._ _

__Harry scratches at his stomach and stretches his arms above his head, very nearly hitting Nick in the ankle, before he stiffens and pulls his hands back to stare at them. Nick stares too, because there it is, Nick's ring on Harry's finger for all the world to see. Harry flexes his fingers, still staring, and Nick thinks that maybe it's time to make his presence known._ _

__"Morning, love," he says lowly, and if he sounds a bit choked up that's between him and his vocal chords. It's just that he put a fucking ring on it, okay? He's very proud of himself and also terrified. Proudly terrified. It's a thing._ _

__Unfortunately, Harry is also terrified: he jumps and spins around so quickly at the sound of Nick's voice that he ends up dumping himself on the floor, and Nick can't help the laugh that wells up, because it looks absolutely hilarious and he was edging towards hysterical anyway._ _

__"Sorry," he gasps, dropping his feet from the bed to scoot a little closer in the chair. "Are you okay?"_ _

__Harry blinks at him, looking bewildered and embarrassed and so bloody adorable Nick doesn't even know how to deal. He has sleep-creases on his cheeks and his hair is a mess and the covers are tangled around his middle like a half-made toga. Nick has never in his life wanted anyone more._ _

__"Oh, come here, you," Nick says, opening his arms and that's all the encouragement Harry needs to launch himself off the floor and into Nick's lap, arse on his thighs and legs dangling on either sides of Nick's hips. He ducks forward, burying his flaming face into the crook of Nick's neck, his hands tucked in against Nick's chest._ _

__Nick slips his arms around Harry's waist, linking his hands against the small of his back to keep him from falling, and presses a kiss to the side of Harry's head. "You okay?" he asks again. "No broken limbs?"_ _

__"'M fine." Harry cuddles for a moment longer before he lifts his head and smiles shyly. "Morning."_ _

__"Morning." Nick bounces his legs lightly and tries to keep his face from going all ridiculous over Harry and his shy dimples. He's pretty sure he doesn't succeed._ _

__"Your hair is a mess," Harry says, pushing Nick's wilted quiff back from his forehead, still with that same shyly adorable smile on his face._ _

__"Your face is a mess," Nick retorts, letting go with one hand to poke at one of Harry's deeply unnecessary dimples. "What is this even?"_ _

__Harry smiles a little wider, cheek scrunching under Nick's fingers. "Dimples," he says. "You wouldn't know because you don't have any."_ _

__Nick grins at him. "Bring up my shortcomings first thing in the morning, why don't you?"_ _

__"You have freckles though." Harry traces a fingertip along Nick's hairline almost light enough to tickle. He leans in a little closer. "I love freckles."_ _

__"Well, you're in for a treat, then." It's a good thing Harry is into freckles because Nick is a very freckly person. He has freckles on his dick; he always felt that was a little unnecessary._ _

__"Mmmhmm." Harry strokes his hands over Nick's cheekbones and into his hair, gently tilting his head back. "Look at that gorgeous freckly mouth."_ _

__Harry's one to talk when he has a mouth on him that could, and probably does, make angels weep. Nick cups Harry's face between his palms. "I'd rather look at this dumb average face," he says, hoping that Harry can tell how much he means it._ _

__Harry's eyes are very green first thing in the morning and his mouth is plump and pink with sleep; Nick doesn't think he'll ever get tired of looking at him, not even if he lives to be a hundred and two._ _

__"Nick," Harry says, just that, but it makes Nick's stomach swoop helplessly because he's so hopelessly in love with this child that it's embarrassing._ _

__Everything about this is embarrassing, actually; they're sitting on a decrepit old desk chair in Nick's childhood bedroom holding onto each other's faces like a pair of bleeding idiots. If Nick ever had any cool points he just lost each and every one of them and he doesn't even care._ _

__"So are you going to kiss me or what?" Nick asks, letting his hands slide down to Harry's shoulders and then around his back._ _

__"Yeah." Harry leans in a little closer, pressing his lips briefly to Nick's forehead. "You might regret not making me brush my teeth though."_ _

__"It's okay." Nick tilts his head further back, chasing Harry's lips. "I don't care."_ _

__"Good."_ _

__It's not perfect maybe; Nick's breath is coffee sour and Harry's mouth does tastes a bit like sugary death, and they're both unsure at first, bumping noses and clacking teeth, but it's also hands down the best kiss Nick ever had. Harry's mouth is warm and slick and _gorgeous_ and he kisses Nick like he never wants to stop, slow and wet and sweetly eager with his fingers tight in Nick's hair._ _

__"Love your mouth," Harry says when they pull apart to breathe. "Fuck."_ _

__Nick nips at his lower lip, murmuring: "It's mutual," before he slips his tongue in between Harry's lips for another kiss. It's quite hard to believe right now that he spent so long turning this down, because this is perfect. _Harry_ is perfect._ _

"You have no idea how long I've wanted this," Harry whispers roughly when they pull apart again. "Fuck Nick, I fancied you when I was fourteen."

"Don't remind me," Nick chides him, pressing another kiss to Harry's wonderful mouth. "Makes me feel dreadfully old."

"I like that you're older than me." Harry strokes Nick's hair back from his face and stares at him. "I never fancied anyone my age and..." Harry bites at his lower lip, looking incredibly sincere in a way that makes Nick want to kiss whatever comes next from his lips before he can say it because it'll surely be too much. "I've never fancied anyone like I fancy you. I like you so _much_ , Nick."

Nick was right. It _is_ too much. _Harry_ is too much, and he’s also the kindest person Nick's ever met, because instead of waiting for some kind of answer, he bends down and kisses Nick again, licking deep into his mouth and sinking his fingers back into Nick's hair. Nick pulls him closer, holds him tighter, and kisses him back with everything he got.

The next time Harry pulls back, it's to breathe against Nick's mouth, close enough that their lips are still brushing. Nick has his eyes closed and his arms wrapped around Harry's back and the space between their faces feels like another world.

"I like you too," Nick confesses quietly. "A lot."

"I was hoping."

Nick can tell Harry's laughing at him. It's awful. "I don't say these thing to just anyone, you know."

"Just last week you spent two hours explaining to Collette why you love her the most. Please, Nicholas."

"She told you about that?" Nick is outraged. That was a highly emotional speech of a private nature.

" _You_ told me about that." Harry pulls back just to roll his eyes at Nick because he's often terrible like that. He's also half-naked and gorgeous, perched on Nick's lap; somehow Nick almost forgot. "You have a big heart." Harry pokes lightly at Nick's chest. "Plenty of room."

At this very precise moment in time Nick's heart is overflowing with feelings about Harry Styles, his terrible tattoos, his awful smile, and the way he just doesn't seem to get that the way Nick feels about him is not a way Nick's felt about anyone before, but maybe that's okay, maybe Nick will just have to prove it to him over time. He can do that. He's willing to spare ,say, the rest of his life, to get the point across.

"You hungry?" he asks, because it's either that or kissing Harry again and he'd like to think there'll be plenty of time for that later.

"Starving." Harry doesn't move though, he just grins at Nick and plucks absently at his shirt.

"I can't make you breakfast if you don't move," Nick points out. He's not actually facilitating Harry moving, though, with the way he's holding on to his hips.

"You couldn't make me breakfast if I moved to Mars," Harry retorts. His fingers have slipped to Nick's shoulders now, caressing them lightly.

"Hey." Nick's offended. He can cook. "I'm never making you pie again."

"Yeah, you are." Harry slips his hands down Nick's arms to touch the insides of his elbows. He thumbs at the tiny cross tattooed on Nick's right arm. It has an unintentional match on Harry's left hand. Nick secretly loves that.

"Yeah," Nick agrees, watching him fondly. "I am."

"Is this..." Harry bites his lip, looks up and then down again, studying Nick's arms very intently. "Are we dating now?"

Nick looks down to where his ring is resting against Harry's skin and doesn't panic even a little. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah, we are."

Harry's smile is like a sunrise, spreading across his face until he's positively beaming. Nick doesn't think he's ever seen him look so happy.

Nick's phone is still in his pocket. It's the work of seconds to wriggle it out and snap a pic of Harry's face.

"Nooo," Harry says. "I look terrible first thing in the morning."

"Are you joking?" Nick rolls his eyes at him. "You always look amazing. It's one of your selling points."

Harry giggles. "Fine, then I'm taking a pic of you."

He slides off Nick's lap to grab his phone off the bedside table, taking several pictures in a row while Nick stares fondly at the one he took of Harry. It's a touch blurry and off centre but the way Harry is looking at him....He never wants to forget that look.

"Come on," Harry says, sitting down on Nick's lap again but with his back to Nick's chest this time. "Selfie."

They both snap a picture of their cheeks squished together, and then another one where they’re both giggling, and then Nick gets a third snap of Harry turning his head enough to press their mouths together. He's not going to post it, but it's secretly his favourite.

"Can I post this?" Harry asks, holding up his phone so Nick can see the photo of both of them laughing. They look at bit ridiculous, eyes scrunchy and hair everywhere, but mostly they just look happy. You can tell in the picture that Harry is shirtless and with the height difference it's not hard to guess he's also on Nick's lap.

"Yeah," Nick says, propping his chin up on Harry's shoulder and slipping an arm around his waist. "Do it."

He watches intently as Harry crops the pic and then flips through filters until he settles on one that makes them both look tan.

"What do I write?" Harry asks, thumbing the caption window up on the screen.

"What do you want to write?" Harry shrugs minutely and Nick shifts enough so that he can give Harry's shoulder a kiss. "Maybe just good morning then. Keep people guessing."

"Some of them will know though," Harry says, writing out Nick's suggested caption with an excess of 'o's.

"I don't care if they all know." It's a confession of sorts; usually Nick likes to keep everyone guessing, including his partners, but it's different with Harry. Maybe that's why it took them so long to get here.

"Good." Harry adds three exclamation marks and a heart-eye emoji.

"Is that you or me?" Nick asks, poking at the emoji with the hand that hasn't found a home curled around Harry's hip.

"It's definitely me," Harry says. "Look at me. Hearts all over my face."

"You should add another one for me then." Nick taps his own face in the picture. "That is the face of someone who likes you a lot."

Harry adds another one and Nick kindly doesn't mention the way his hand is shaking. Then Harry tags Nick, thumbs the Twitter button and hits share. The pic jumps to the top of his feed with a tiny 'Finishing up' written next to it and he drops his hand, still holding the phone, to his thigh.

"No take backs now." Harry sounds a bit breathless and his hand is still shaking minutely. The picture has popped up to full size now. it's only a matter of minutes before it starts spreading. Nick has a surprising number of fans that like to track his every move.

He brings his own phone up and likes Harry's picture. There are already two comments. The first one is from a stranger and simply says: _OMG!!!!_ The second one if from Alexa and reads: _Fucking finally!!1!1!!!_

It makes Nick smile and he locks his phone again, wrapping his arms around Harry's waist. "It's out there now," he says. As far as their friends go they could as well have took out a full page ad in the Daily Mail.

"I guess it is." Nick doesn't have to look to know Harry's beaming again, which is good because he's busy hiding his matching grin against Harry's shoulder. He actually did it. He took up grand romantic gestures as a lifestyle and fucking aced it.

"This is really not how I thought I'd spend Sunday morning." Harry traces his fingers over Nick's arms on his stomach. "Like...not even in my wildest dreams."

"Really? I spend most Sunday mornings with a nubile young thing on my lap."

Harry snorts. "You wish."

"Hey, I could have. If I wanted to." Nick considers this. "Especially since I spend most Sundays with you."

Harry wriggles around until he's sitting sideways on Nick's lap. It's not very comfortable given his arse digs into Nick's thigh, but the way Harry leans in to kiss him more than makes up for it.

Harry's phone buzzes and he pulls back to look at it. "Mum says Robin can come and pick me up in half an hour. He's in Manchester apparently."

"We better get a move on with breakfast then," Nick says. He doesn't want Harry to go, but Harry did go up north to see his mum, not hang out with Nick, who he can see any day of the week.

"Yeah." Harry thumbs out a reply and sends it off, turning his phone over between his fingers.

Nick kisses the corner of his downturned mouth. "I'll see you back in London, love."

"I'm not back until Tuesday, though, and on Thursday I'm going to Milan with Henry."

"So come to mine on Tuesday night." _And stay until you're leaving_ , he doesn't add. "How long are you in Milan for anyway?"

"Dunno." Harry leans his forehead against Nick's temple. "A week maybe."

Harry's definitely staying until he's leaving then. If needed be he can take a suitcase of Nick's clothes. Actually, he should, regardless. It's unfair, Nick thinks, that Harry's been _right there_ for months and now that Nick's finally allowed to kiss him, he's going away. He only has himself to blame, obviously, but that doesn't mean he's happy about it.

"A week is nothing," Nick says with a bravado he doesn't feel. Right now a week sounds like forever. _Tuesday_ sounds like forever. "You won't even have time to miss me."

Harry makes a noncommittal noise and presses a kiss to the corner of Nick's eye. "I better get ready." He sounds very unenthused about it.

"Okay," Nick squeezes him around the waist before letting go so that Harry can clamber gracelessly to his feet. "I'll do us some toast, yeah?"

Harry nods, mouth still downturned. He looks like he's facing the gallows not another couple of days at his mum's. Nick pushes to his feet but doesn't leave, watching Harry pull listlessly at his pile of discarded clothes.

"Do you want to borrow something?" Nick asks, already reaching for his bag. "Like..." He pulls out a pair of Calvin Klein's and a blue t-shirt. "Clean pants and a shirt maybe."

"This shirt," Harry says, pulling lightly on the shirt Nick is wearing. It's the shirt he wore last night because it was the first thing he found this morning.

"What's wrong with this shirt?" Nick points at the blue t-shirt; it's perfectly respectable.

"You're not wearing it." The duh is heavily implied.

Nick rolls his eyes at him. Fondly. It probably looks insane. "Fine, Harold. Have my shirt."

He pulls it off and holds it out. Harry takes it but instead of putting it on he stares at Nick's chest. Nick usually feels self-conscious when people look too intently at him but Harry looks mesmerised. It's amusing and also really, really hot.

"You can touch, you know." Nick reaches for the blue shirt because he needs to something with his hands that isn't grabbing for Harry.

"We really don't have time for the chain of events that would unfold if I got my hands on your naked torso," Harry says roughly, taking half a step back and shrugging Nick's shirt on.

Nick follows the movement with his eyes, and it's just a coincidence, really, that his gaze drops to where Harry is half hard in his cotton boxer briefs, the line of his dick clearly visible to Nick's greedy eyes.

"Errr," Nick says, clutching the shirt to his chest.

Harry makes a helpless little noise and visibly shakes himself, the way his thighs tense and relax very pleasing to the eye. He has very good thighs, Harry. Nick wants to write them a sonnet.

"Nick," Harry whines. "Go make toast. Stop flaunting yourself." Harry's one to talk when he's showing off all that leg below the hem of Nick's shirt. "And stop staring at my dick."

"I'm not staring at your dick." Nick's offended. "I'm staring at your thighs."

" _Niiiick_."

"Fine." Nick shrugs the t-shirt on and backs towards the door because he's a mature adult and he doesn't want to start something they can't finish. "I'll be downstairs."

"Okay."

It's only by tremendous force of will that Nick actually leaves the room, but that's neither here nor there. He doesn't think anyone can blame him, really, with all that Harry on display.

\--

Tuesday is _forever_ away. No really, it is. _Forever_.

"Forty-eight hours. It's been forty-eight hours. Would you please shut _up_ about it?" Matt looks pained, scrubbing a hand across his face as if Nick's being particularly trying this morning. Which is unfair because Nick hasn't mentioned it _once_ on air.

"Forever," Nick says dramatically because he quite enjoys annoying Matt. It's one of his favourite hobbies.

"I think it's cute," Fiona says, leaning her chin against her folded hands. "He's so gone for that boy."

"He's been gone for that boy since before Christmas," Matt huffs. "I was hoping we'd hear the end of it at some point."

"Hey." Nick has not been going on about Harry since before Christmas. That is a slanderous lie.

"So Henry's new assistant...what's his name? Howard? Did you meet him yet? I don't think I've ever met anyone that terrible at telling a story. Fit, though, I'll give him that." Ian's Nick impression is awful.

"Yeah, I don't know. Harry was there, though. Ended up sleeping on my couch, don't really know how, but whatever, he's kind of funny and well fit." Fiona's is worse.

_The team is being mean to me. *sad face* *sad face*_

_Are they teasing you about me again?_

_Yesssss. *single tear*_

_Awwww, poor baby. I'll kiss it better later? *kissy face with heart*_

_You better. *kissy face with heart*_

"Aaaand he's texting the boyfriend again." Matt sighs gustily. "Link in 30 seconds, lover boy."

Nick stomach does a swoop-drop-twirl at the word boyfriend, as if his leisurely waddle through The Love Tunnel unexpectedly ended in a flume ride. Reflexively he wants to say, "He's not my boyfriend," but – well, he's pretty sure that would be a lie. His stomach swoops again at the thought and then again when Harry texts him back.

_All over. Promise. *aubergine*_

The next link is a bit of a giggly mess but even Matt doesn't seem to care.

\--

Because the universe likes to conspire against Nick, Harry has a work function on Tuesday night that doesn't end until nine-ish. Nick sends Henry a strongly worded text about it and gets a huge block of laughing emojis back, followed by, _You should have figured out I live to torture you by now_ and then _Didn't actually schedule this stupid fucking dinner though. Would rather be home with Dave_. Whatever, Henry's still awful.

Harry is awful too, sending Nick a bathroom selfie and a cheerful _see you later_ and then nothing for _two whole hours_. If it hadn't been for Collette's calming presence, Nick would have lost his mind completely.

"What if he changed his mind?"

"What?" Collette looks honestly confused.

"Harry. What if he changed his mind?"

Collette looks even more confused. "About what?"

"About coming over."

"Why would he do that?"

Nick blows out a breath. It's a real worry. Daisy would have understood. "It might have happened," he says petulantly and thumbs out a quick text to Daisy. "Teenagers are notoriously fickle."

Collette stares at him across the coffee table. He can only see one of her eyes but it's a very intense stare. Then she says, "Are you joking?" and breaks down into giggles because she's clearly just as awful as Nick's other friends.

 _No one understands me *single tear face*_ , he tweets before resolutely shoving his phone in between the couch cushions and flopping over on his back. To think that just last week Harry fell asleep with his head in Nick's lap on this very couch and Nick woke him up with a gentle shake rather than a kiss and _didn't take him to bed_. Past Nick made terrible choices.

"He's gonna show up," Collette says kindly and throws a pillow at him. It bounces off the edge of the settee and lands on the floor.

"Don't make a mess," Nick whines, but he doesn't bother to reach for it. It would probably be weirder for Harry to find his flat spotless than to find it messy.

He digs his phone out from under the cushion and checks his WhatsApp. There's nothing from Harry but Daisy texted him back, calling him ridiculous, and Pixie and Alexa, who are at the same function as Harry and Henry, got a picture with Harry and captioned it: _Eager beaver. *aubergine* *aubergine*_

"Sally and Pepo met Harry," Nick says, manfully resisting the urge to stroke Harry's smiling face.

"See? He'll be here."

"Maybe," Nick allows. Logically he knows that Harry will show up -- Harry's too decent to just stand someone up and Nick doesn't _really_ think he changed his mind about them in the last two hours -- it's just that he's nervous. He's nearly twenty-nine years old and he's never had a proper boyfriend, yet with Harry he doesn't think he could settle for less. Harry matters. Harry matters like no one ever did before and it's _terrifying_.

"I'm kind of nervous," he admits. "I've never really done this before. I don't know how to be someone's boyfriend."

"To be honest," Collette says, coming around the coffee table to unceremoniously plop herself down on top of Nick. "You can just keep doing what you've been doing with Harry for the last six months and you'll be fine. This time around you'll even get some, won't that be nice?" She waggles her eyebrows at him and Nick really needs to stop telling his friends everything. How little sex he's been getting since Harry Styles strolled into his life should be a secret between him and his right hand, not something his friends should use to mock him.

"I could have gotten plenty," he says petulantly because he could. Despite being near thirty, he's in high demand.

"Of course you could," Collette says, putting her head down on his shoulder and wriggling into a more comfortable position. "Boys are lining up around the block for you."

Nick wraps an arm around her back, tangling his fingers into her messy hair. "Boys are lining up ’cause they hear I got swagger, but I kick them to the curb unless they look like Mick Jagger," Nick sings.

"Is that an actual song or did you just make that up?" Collette's lack of interest in popular culture is one of Nick's favourite things about her. 

"Actual song." 

She quiet for a moment, scratching idly at the white button down she's probably wrinkling horribly with the way she's stretched out on top of him. "Huh, I suppose Harry does look a bit like a young Mick Jagger." 

"Yeah," Nick agrees, smiling. "He does."

\--

Nick wakes up to an unnecessary amount of giggling to find Alexa, Pixie and Harry standing in the doorway. Harry's in the middle, looking shyly gorgeous in skinny black jeans and a grey Henley with a beanie pulled down over his curls. When he catches Nick looking he mouths _hi_ and lifts his hand in a dorky little wave. 

_Hiya_ , Nick mouths back and grins at him. It makes Alexa and Pixie shout, laugh, and point at him, which probably means his face is doing ridiculous things, but it's Harry and he looks amazing and Nick doesn't care. 

The commotion wakes Collette, who sits up between Nick's sprawled legs and murmurs a sleepy greeting, giving Nick enough space to wriggle free and get up. He probably looks a right mess. He's damp with sweat where Collette's been lying on him, his face feels like its criss-crossed with lines from the throw pillows, his shirt is made up of nothing but wrinkles, and his hair is flopping limply over his forehead.

"You look amazing," Harry says, cheeks pinkening when Alexa and Pixie both hoot with laughter. 

"Shut up, you two," Nick says without taking his eyes off Harry. "You're looking pretty great too, Harold. I like it when your clothes look as if they're about to fall apart while you're wearing them." 

"Shut up," Harry says fondly, smile breaking free. "I put this on just for you." He pulls at the hem of the henley, and Nick can't believe Harry actually went to a _fashion_ event dressed in a shirt that looks like it’s had a thousand washes. Then again it also makes him look smoking hot, so people might have been distracted from the fashion faux pas by having eyes. 

"He had the Irish one bring him a shirt because he spilled sauce on his," Alexa reveals, turning Harry's cheeks a deeper shade of red. "‘Because,’" the air quotes fall neatly into place, "‘I can't see Nick with a stain on my shirt.’" Alexa's Harry impression is truly terrible and very endearing. 

"You swore you wouldn't tell," Harry whines. 

"Pep swore, I did no such thing." Alexa grins like a wolf. Harry should really have learned to look for the loopholes by now. 

"Awww, but look at Grim's face, though." Pixie grabs Nick's chin. " _Look at him_." 

"Uuugh." Nick bats at her hand. "My face is a normal face." 

"Are you joking?" Collette asks from right beside him, making everyone, Harry included, laugh. Nick might have miscalculated a bit when he made that a running gag on the show. 

"That's it," he says, making shooing gestures with his hands. "Get out of here all of you. Except for Harry. Harry can stay." 

"Yay," Harry says and somehow manages to wind himself around Nick from behind, putting his chin on Nick's shoulder. It's quite a feat, considering they were face to face moments ago. 

There's a chorus of _aww_ s and chest clutching, and Nick leans back into Harry muttering, "Now look what you've done." 

"They're your friends," Harry points out, linking his fingers on Nick's stomach, he mostly sounds like he's very pleased with himself. 

"I'm wounded, Ha --" Alexa starts but she's interrupted by Collette's clearly audible gasp and watery, "Oh, Nicholas." 

Nick frowns. "What..." Then he follows the line of her gaze and _oh_ , of course Collette recognises the ring; she was there when he bought it. Nick's heart thumps hard against his ribcage. This is it. Now they will _know_. 

"You gave him your ring." Collette legitimately looks like she's about to cry. Pixie and Alexa just gape at him. 

"I take all my cues from Beyoncé," Nick says airily, or, well, he tries for airily. He's not sure he makes it. "I like it." He pokes at Harry's head where it's currently hidden in Nick's neck. "So I put a ring on it." He covers Harry's hands with one of his own. 

"Oh my god," Alexa breathes. "Does Aimee know?" 

Nick shrugs. "I might have mentioned it." Or called specifically at 2am on Monday morning when he woke up in a cold sweat from a dream where Harry left the ring on the hallway table when he left. Same difference.

"Wow," Pixie says, finally shaking off the shock. "I'm so _happy_ for you." 

Then there are group hugs and cheering and cheeky gropes before Nick finally _finally_ manages to usher them out, including Collette, and lock the door behind them. 

"Sorry about that," he says as he comes back into the living room, raking a hand through his hair. 

"I should have taken it off." Harry standing where Nick left him twisting the ring around his finger. "Didn't mean to put you on the spot. You were pretty drunk." 

Nick's heart thumps painfully with how much he doesn't want that. "You can take it off if you want," he says after a moment because whether or not he wears it has to be Harry's choice. "But I'm entirely sober now and I still want you to have it." 

Harry looks up and there's his gorgeous shy smile again. "Yeah?" 

"Yeah," Nick confirms, closing the distance between them until they're standing toe to toe.

Harry tips his head back to look at Nick, still smiling. "Your hair is a mess," he says, reaching up to push the quiff back from Nick's forehead. 

"You're one to talk," Nick says, pulling Harry's beanie off and throwing it at one of the couches. Harry's hair tumbles free in a wild, fragrant, still slightly damp mess. "What is this even?" He sinks his fingers into Harry's glorious curls and leans in closer, sniffing at Harry's temple. "Did you wash your hair for me? I'm honoured." 

"Not the only thing I washed for you," Harry says lowly, flattening his hands against Nick's chest. "Brushed my teeth too." 

"Is that an invitation?" Nick asks, pressing a light kiss to his temple and another to the corner of his eye. 

"Yeah," Harry fists his hands into Nick's shirt and turns his head, blindly seeking Nick's lips. "It really is." 

"Good," Nick murmurs and seals their mouths together. 

The kiss starts out gentle, almost tentative, but then Harry licks at Nick's lips and Nick opens up for him and it turns heated within moments. Nick cups Harry's head between his hands, holding him still to kiss him even deeper, and Harry groans into his mouth, pulling hard on Nick's shirt. 

"I'm so --" Harry starts, when they pull apart to breathe, but he immediately pulls Nick in for another kiss, and then another one, hungry and demanding, and whatever he was going to say gets lost between their mouths. 

Nick needs him closer, needs to feel the weight of him, needs to know if he is as hard as Nick is, as helplessly turned on by the slick glide of their tongues. He moves his hands to flatten his palms against Harry's back and slides them down to curl around Harry's hips, pulling him in. 

Harry makes a startled little noise against Nick's mouth and stumbles into him, but as soon as he finds his footing, he rubs up against Nick's thigh, knuckles pressing hard into Nick's chest. 

"I need to --" Harry pants when they pull apart. "You need to let me see you." 

He's fumbling at Nick's shirt buttons already, struggling to get them open with desire-clumsy fingers. Nick lifts his hands to help him and Harry whines deep in his throat. 

"No, please," he says, looking stricken even as his hands stills. "I just want to --" 

"I'm helping you, love," Nick assures him, popping a couple of buttons open with practiced ease. "See." 

Harry probably does see, but he's busy flattening his palms against Nick's chest and making the most adorable little noises Nick has ever heard. 

"Are you cooing at my chest, Harold? Is that what is happening here?" 

Harry looks up, cheeks reddening. "No?" 

"You are." Nick's delighted, Harry is the best thing to ever happen to him. 

"Uuugh." Harry buries his flaming face into Nick's chest and rubs his cheek against Nick's breastbone. 

"What is it with you and my chest hair anyway?" 

"It's sexy," Harry mumbles, lifting a hand to pull lightly on the hair just below Nick's right nipple. His other hand has found a home on Nick's hip, thumb worrying where the waistband of Nick's jeans has slid down to reveal his pants. 

"So sexy you had to coo at it like it's a small furry animal?" 

"Mmmhmm." Harry moves his hand to cup the slight swell of Nick's right pec and rubs his thumb over the nipple. He presses a kiss to the hollow of Nick's throat, and one to his neck, before his lips reaches their destination at Nick's ear. "And if you touch me right I'll howl like a wolf." 

Nick wants to laugh because that's an awful line, really, but Harry has thumbed his nipple into a stiff peak and his cock is uncomfortable thick in his tight jeans, and all that comes out is a breathy wheeze that Harry silences with his mouth. 

"Love kissing you," Harry mumbles when they pull apart. "Love your mouth." 

_Love you,_ Nick thinks and experiences a moment of vertigo that he covers up with another kiss and then another one, slipping his hands in under Harry's shirt to rake them up his back. If he makes it through the night without blurting it out, he'll consider it a miracle. 

Harry's hands flit across Nick's upper body as if he's not sure what part he wants to touch the most. One second he's tugging at Nick's chest hair, the next he's tracing the line of his spine, only to scratch at his belly moments later before his hands settle on Nick's hips. 

"What do you want?" Nick asks when they next pull apart, mouthing kisses along Harry's jaw. 

"Bedroom," Harry suggest, breath coming out hard and fast. He looks properly debauched, mouth red and eyes glazed. 

"Okay." 

Nick leads him there by the hand, endeared by the way Harry clings to his fingers as if he's afraid Nick's going to make a run for it. 

Nick's bedroom has been the scene of many acts of debauchery, but it’s never felt as intimate as it does when Nick lets go of Harry's hand at the foot of the bed. The bedside lights cast a golden glow across the bed and he pulled the blackout curtains earlier creating an illusion of darkness. He turned the covers down when he changed the sheets and he worried it'd look presumptuous, but now he thinks it looks inviting. 

Harry shifts his feet and chews at his lower lip, glancing at Nick, the bed and the door, with a flush rising in his cheeks. 

"What's wrong?" Nick asks, reaching out to tilt Harry's chin up from where he's starting hanging his head. 

Harry flushes deeper. "I really need a wee." 

Nick laughs. He doesn't mean to because Harry looks miserable about it, but he thought Harry'd changed his mind and the sudden rush of relief is making him giddy. 

"Don't laugh," Harry says petulantly. "I'm so embarrassed."

"Don't be." Nick presses a kiss to Harry's heated cheek and one to his mouth. "Go to the toilet, love. I'm not going anywhere." 

"You're so --" Harry darts in for another kiss and then another one. "God, Nick."

"What?" Nick grazes his thumbs over Harry's hipbones. 

"I really just like you so much." Harry presses their cheeks together and clings to Nick's shoulders. 

"Feeling’s mutual." Nick kisses his cheek and pushes at him lightly. "Now go before you'll need a cold shower to wee." 

Harry takes a step back and looks down at the rather obvious tenting of his jeans. "At least I wouldn’t use up the hot water," he says ruefully. 

Nick laughs and shoos at him. "Go on, love. I'll wait." 

\--

While Harry's in the bathroom Nick makes sure his alarm is set and strips down to his pants before getting on the bed. He sits back against the headboard and pulls one of his legs up, trying to present a pleasing picture. He's pretty sure he doesn't succeed, given the way his stomach folds into neat little rolls and his chest kind of sags, but he's also pretty sure Harry won't care. It's strangely liberating. 

Harry doesn't care. He stops in the doorway to lean suggestively against the doorpost, hip cocked and shirt riding up to reveal a strip of skin, while he looks Nick up and down with enough heat in his eyes to make desire spike through Nick's stomach. 

"Looking good, Grim," he says lowly, pushing away from the door to cross the floor, coming to a stop at the foot of the bed. 

"Likewise," Nick says, smiling. "Bit overdressed though." 

Harry pulls his shirt off and drops it on the bed. "Better?" 

"Yeah," Nick says, drinking in the sight of him. Nick's seen Harry shirtless plenty of times. He's well familiar with the bulge of Harry's pecs and the cuts of his hips and he's taken every chance to poke fun at the butterfly stretching across Harry's sternum to cover up the way it makes his mouth go dry, but this is different. It's different because he's allowed to look his fill now. He doesn't have to turn his head away and pretend he wasn't looking to begin with, and he can stare to his heart's content. 

"Should I --" Harry drops his hands to the fly of his jeans. 

"Yeah," Nick urges. "Go on." 

There's nothing particularly sexy about the way Harry has to peel his skinny jeans down his legs and shake them off his feet but the way he crawls onto the bed in just his pants more than makes up for it. He stops to drop a kiss onto Nick's bent knee before he pushes Nick's leg down flat and crawls fully into his lap. 

Nick puts his hands on Harry's hips, rubbing his thumbs along the jut of Harry's hipbones. "What do you want, love?" he asks. 

Harry's already hard again, the fabric of his pants stretched obscenely over the long thick length of him, but when he speaks it's to say, "I want to suck you." 

"Hnng," Nick says because it's hard to form words with the way all his blood just rushed south. "I mean... okay." It's more a croak than a word and Harry laughs delightedly. 

"You want my mouth." He grins cockily leaning in to give Nick a frankly filthy kiss. "You've been thinking about this." 

"Hard not to with the way you stick things in your mouth every chance you get." Nick slips his hands up Harry's sides to thumb gently at his nipples. "Remember the banana-eating contest you had with Henry?" 

"Yeah." Harry's response is more breath than word and his nipples have tightened into stiff peaks under Nick's gentle ministrations. 

"I couldn't get it out of my head afterwards, the way you just went down on that thing. Touched myself when I got home, couldn't stop thinking about you sucking me." 

"Fuck," Harry breathes, pushing his chest into Nick's hands. 

"Didn't want to think about it," Nick confesses. "Tried to think of nothing but how good my hand felt after being hard for so long but I couldn't stop imagining you were there with me." 

Harry sucks in a harsh breath. 

"Came so hard," Nick murmurs, finding Harry's lips for a soft kiss. "Always do when I think of you." 

Harry makes a desperate noise against Nick's mouth, pressing in for another kiss and another one, his hips thrusting forward against nothing. 

"Want me to get you off first?" Nick asks, catching one of Harry's nipples between his thumb and forefinger and pinching it lightly. 

Harry groans, hips shuddering forward again, but he still shakes his head. "You first," he says firmly. 

Nick kisses him again. "We've been together for something like fifty hours and you're already the best boyfriend ever." 

Harry makes a helpless little noise, somehow managing to climb even more into Nick's lap before kissing him again. "You can't just say stuff like that," he whines when he pulls back. "God, Nick." 

"It's absolutely true though," Nick says, sliding his hands up to cup Harry's flushed gorgeous face. "100% best boyfriend ever." 

Harry squirms happily. "You never even had a boyfriend." 

"Did too." He considers it. "Sort of. No one like you though." He smoothes his thumbs over Harry's cheekbones and touches their mouth together. "No one even comes close." 

When Nick pulls back Harry's staring at him with wide wet eyes, mouth trembling slightly. 

_I love you_ , Nick thinks, touching his thumbs to the corners of Harry's mouth before replacing them with his lips. It's funny that a week ago, had they not been in bed, he would probably have said it, wrapped an arm around Harry's neck and smacked a kiss to his cheek, made a joke out of it even though he'd meant it, but now he forces the words back and licks deep into Harry's mouth instead hoping that maybe Harry can hear them anyway. 

When they pull apart this time Harry doesn't go far, pressing wet gasping kisses to Nick's jaw and neck, working his way downwards. Nick scoots down with him, until he's lying almost flat with his shoulders propped up against the pillows. 

Harry stops to rub his face into Nick's chest hair of course, covering Nick's tiny nipples with his palms. "Would you still like me if I waxed my chest?" Nick asks, only semi-jokingly because it's exactly the kind of thing some sadist at Radio 1 would make him do for charity.  
"I'd still like you if you went bald," Harry mumbles, nosing across Nick's chest until he finds one of Nick's nipples and licks at it. It hardens under Harry's mouth almost instantly and he makes a happy noise, sucking at it gently. 

"Fuck," Nick exhales, throwing an arm across his face because he can't both look and feel; he'd come instantly. 

Harry moves to Nick's other nipple, giving it the same treatment while his fingers play with the slick bud he’d just pulled off of. 

"If you keep doing that, I'm going to come," Nick warns. His nipples are really sensitive and Harry's stomach is pressing down on his dick, rubbing him just right every time Harry shifts. 

"Hot," Harry mumbles, but he starts sliding downwards again, kissing a path over Nick's trembling stomach to the waistband off his pants. 

Nick is so hard, he's surprised he can still think, because there shouldn't be any blood left for that sort of thing, but when Harry works his pants down over his erection he's pretty sure he somehow stiffens even further. There are diamonds less hard than Nick's dick. It's obscene how hard he is. 

"Lift up," Harry says, making short work of pulling Nick's pants all the way down his legs and off before he crawls up to settle between Nick's thighs again, wrapping one hand firmly around the base of Nick's dick. "Fuck, you're hard," he says breathlessly and then his mouth is right there, sliding over the head of Nick's dick and sucking hard. 

It's like being punched in the gut with impending orgasm. Nick's entire body seizes and he lets out a shaky, "fuuuck," tangling the fingers of one hand into Harry's hair. 

Harry lets out a needy noise in response, taking Nick deeper before pulling back, setting up a sloppy rhythm where his hand meets his mouth on every down stroke. There's no finesse to it, no clever tricks, it's just good steady suction with one of Harry's hands on Nick's cock and the other on Nick's stomach scratching lightly at the hair there, but the helpless, probably unconscious, noises Harry makes every time Nick's cock nudges the back of his throat and the way he looks absolutely ecstatic to have his mouth stretched around Nick's dick has Nick on the edge within minutes. 

"Gonna come," he warns, thighs tensing against Harry's shoulders and fingers tightening in his hair. "You should pull off if you don't want --" It's hard to form words with the way Nick's entire being is on edge, his tongue feels too big for his mouth and he can barely breathe fast enough to keep up with his thundering heart. It feels so good. _Harry_ feels so good. Nick doesn't think he can hold back much longer. 

Harry doesn't pull off but he pulls back enough to tongue at Nick's leaking slit before rubbing the flat of his tongue hard against the bundle of nerves just below the head. That's all it takes, Nick comes with a bitten off shout, blood rushing in his ears and body trembling with force of it until it feels as if he's shaking apart. Harry sucks him through it, mouth gentle now and hand loose. He doesn't stop until Nick collapses back onto the bed, panting weakly, and even then he doesn't go far, teasing jolting aftershock out of Nick with gentle kisses and licks until it's all too much and Nick has to squirm away. 

"Holy shit," Nick croaks. He came so hard he feels dizzy with it, limps floppy and useless. He loosens his grip on Harry's hair and lets his arms fall down on the bed, spreading his fingers against the sheets. When Harry presses a gentle kiss to his hip, it's enough to make him shudder with another aftershock. "I think you killed me," he says dreamily, reaching up to paw at Harry's face. It's probably a wonder he doesn't poke one of Harry's eyes out. "Such a lovely mouth." 

He doesn't particularly mean to slip two fingers into between Harry's lips, but Harry moans when he does, taking them in deeper. His coordination seems to be slowly returning, enough that he can urge Harry to crawl up his body without having to pull his fingers out, so that's what he does. 

"What do you want, love?" he asks, when Harry is straddling his stomach and close enough that Nick can kiss the corner of his mouth while still pressing the pads of his fingers against Harry's tongue. Harry moans helplessly, hips twitching forward, but he doesn't pull off Nick's finger to answers. He looks a bit out of it, eyes so dark they're almost black and dick hard enough to pull the waistband of his pants away from his body. 

"Okay then," Nick says, making the decision for him. "On your side you go." 

Harry whines when Nick pulls his fingers out of his mouth, but he's easily mollified by Nick's tongue as Nick carefully tips them over on their sides. It takes a little more coordination than he has to spare, but no one bites anyone's tongue, so he considers it a win. 

They stay like that for a while, trading deep wet kisses, while Nick slides his hands over every inch of skin he can reach until Harry's trembling in his arms. Only then does Nick reach for his pants, carefully working them down to his thighs and wrapping a hand around Harry's cock. It feels so good in his hand, long and thick and curled just right, already slick with precome. 

"What do you want?" he asks again, slowly working his hand up and down Harry's length.

Harry moans shakily, pressing his fingers into Nick's shoulder blades. "Anything," he breathes. "Just keep kissing me." 

So Nick does just that, he keeps his hand around Harry's cock, half rolling over so that Harry can also rub up against his stomach and just keeps kissing him, free hand curled around the back of Harry's neck. It's probably not the most inventive way anyone has ever gotten Harry off, and it feels like a meagre payback when he just came so hard his brain leaked out through his ears, but every time he tries to pull back Harry presses forward, chasing his mouth, and he's leaking so much Nick's stomach is wet with it. 

When Harry finally comes, it's with a drawn out whine and a full body shudder, lips going slack against Nick's as Nick wanks him through it. He keeps it up even after Harry's moans have turned pained because he's still thrusting his hips into Nick's hand, seemingly enjoying the edge of too much. It's only when Harry stops moving, breath shuddering across Nick's face that Nick finally lets go, wrapping his arms around Harry's back instead. 

"I made a mess on your stomach," Harry says shakily, looking in between. "I think some got on your chest." 

"It washes off, I'm sure," Nick says fondly, kissing his flushed cheek. 

"I get really wet," Harry says apologetically. "Some people don't like that." 

He's still staring but Nick can't tell if it's because he's rueful or because he likes the sight of his come all over Nick's torso. Knowing Harry, it's probably both. 

"Well, I do," Nick says firmly. What kind of idiot doesn't like it when a boy drips for them? It can be a bit tricky when giving a blow job but you just have to let the excess dribble down your chin, it's no big deal. 

Harry finally relaxes, sinking down against the bed and touching his mouth to Nick's. He looks a mess, face flushed and mouth obscenely swollen, eyes hazy and unfocused. 

"Sleepy?" Nick asks, thinking maybe that was as good for Harry as it was for him. He looks a bit shell shocked. 

"Yeah." Harry kisses him again, pressing a hand against Nick's chest. "We should sleep." 

They should, as it's getting late and Nick has work in the morning, but he really has to clean up first. 

"In a minute," Nick promises. "I'm just going to pop into the bathroom and --" The way Harry instantly clings with his entire body says that's not a good idea. "Okay, then, love." Nick kisses Harry's temple. " _We're_ just going to pop into the bathroom." 

\--

In the end Nick rubs Harry down with a flannel before he washes himself and brushes his teeth with Harry draped along his back. He even pees like that because Harry doesn't want to let go and Nick bladder has never been shy. It's not until they're shuffling back into the bedroom that Harry seems to come back into himself, pulling back with an embarrassed grimace. 

"Sorry," he mumbles, cheeks flaming. "I should have warned you I sometimes get a bit clingy when I come really hard." 

"Did you? I thought that was just the right amount of clingy." Granted, had it been anyone but Harry, Nick would probably have freaked the fuck out, but if he had to, he's pretty sure he'd carry Harry on his back for the rest of his life. Funny how that works. He adds a mental fist pump because _really hard_ , huh? He’s still got it. 

Harry smiles, looking a bit wobbly, and Nick reaches out for his hand, leading him back to the bed and guiding him onto the mattress, bending down with him to press a kiss to his cheek. He pulls the covers up to Harry's chest and walks around the bed to turn off the bedside light before he crawls into the bed himself, snuggling up to Harry's side. He fumbles behind him for the second light and plunges the room into sudden startling darkness. 

They breathe in silence for a moment, shifting around until they've found a comfortable position with Nick on his back and Harry half on top of him, his head, unsurprisingly, resting on Nick's chest. Nick toys idly with his hair while he tries to wrap his mind around the fact that they just had sex and, all things considered, it was a pretty roaring success. 

"You okay, love?" he asks when Harry doesn't say anything for a while. "Still feeling clingy?" 

"I'm always a bit clingy with you." Harry rubs his cheek against Nick chest. "Like you a lot." 

Nick finds Harry's left hand where it's resting against his chest and rubs his thumb over the ring he put there. "Yeah," he says softly, pressing a kiss into Harry's hair. "I like you a lot too."

 _Love you,_ he thinks, clutching Harry a little tighter, and as Harry breathes out shakily and clings even tighter, he's pretty sure Harry's thinking it too. 

\--

In the morning Nick wakes up before his alarm with Harry snuffling adorably into his chest hair. He spends a few minutes grinning dumbly up at the ceiling while carding his fingers through Harry's hair before he grabs his phone off the bedside table and composes a tweet one-handed. 

**@grimmers:** MOOOOOOORNIIIIIIIIINGGGGGGG!!!!!! *aubergine* *heart* 

\-- The End --

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> You can find me on tumblr as [becominghawk](http://becominghawk.tumblr.com/) but I spend most of my time on twitter where I'm [jeyhawk](https://twitter.com/jeyhawk). Come say hi! :)


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